06: NEW POETRY



The History of Mr Howard

Give me back the smell of pencils Monday morning in their boxes the mucilage and ink in inkwells the Mercator’s above the blackboard with half the world in red give me back that ‘firm but just’ preceptor of my childhood …

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Psychology

these are the mad journeys that I would like to get out of the way a short note from my dead mother reminding me not to urinate like a dog the platform at Richmond Station without train and in-between delays …

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Comet

A coal tumbles like a smoking comet onto the carpet of the lounge of the Alexandra Hotel. Patrons, numb to the perfume of coal smoke, oblivious to embers creeping across shag, continue eating. The chitchat is of meteor storms and …

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Chance

I grin when I see you Dealerboy When we were both on Big Wheel you were swing and broke me first You tapped my arm not my shoulder I felt your hand through my shirt When you said the winner …

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Poem

i. m. John Forbes While peaking lungs slap shut as thin air wallets & kitchen floors resound to confessions & to noisy fucks you’re out, reconnoitering the package deal fringes of paradise where dented aspirations come to light at carboot …

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Linea nigra

An indigo line from extruded navel to pubis, a narrow neat bruise or a compass line tattoo. Beneath it, abdominal muscles asunder, uncleaved like cheeks of a gravid peach. Above it, livid straie of a sun-dried gourd-skin, verandahed by mooning …

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Limerick’s Sons

We knew it as thrumming beat and ribtickle rhyme, not as howling town wrapping steel river, hungry town of whiskied blood and tackleboys, a place to ditch your turpitude, canvas-sway across the ribcage of the world to begin again in …

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Her Embroideries

He was the shadow of the deep bed. He was very beautiful, and as always there was something perfect, as though I were his cousin. On the map he had shown me a forest, but there was no such forest, …

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Pattern

One gets sick, the other follows — and drag out blue irises and lines by Tennyson, the only one that really fits: “We know nothing.” When they call for a minute’s silence there’s always some chicken truck roaring past, or …

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Fishing Shacks

A shocking mismatch of colours, a love of galvo, these bachelor beach pads say “eternal boy” in the boofiest way, sometimes edged with shotgun warnings — the skull and cross bones on the cubby door. A total lack of tizz …

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Skin

for W.H. Auden The old man and old woman kiss. In the park, on the path, openly. A fullness of touch, a coupling Of comforts and fearlessness. We, sitting on the grass, deny That this should happen, even the broad …

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Laissez Faire

They were acting crazy around the card table. She was trying to teach the guys how to deal poker hands, the way it ought to be done — she was bluffing, they were too stoned, in this motel room like …

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