31.1: POST-EPIC
So the story goes: Glámis, the bride
So the story goes: Glámis, the bride was a sad one when he was found by the tide veiled seaspray, dead urchins daughter of ambition, queen of blood sickened by the dark fate of her deepest love Sickened with herself. …
not to mention harpur his prophetic dream of lawson exhuming
not to mention harpur his prophetic dream of lawson exhuming jabberwockies stuffed and exhibited in life-like dioramas and Henry Kendall letting the belled birds free translating flight into words of white with a nun, every Thursday evening as she guts …
Sing to me of the woman, plaintive Muse,
Sing to me of the woman, plaintive Muse, the one with chalkdust in her shoes Let her spin Medusa’s curly premises and weave a syllogism of stone Give me words not my own but the steel and dust, and bone. …
1. sleepless thirty days:
1. sleepless thirty days: there was a fork sticking out of my orange wires and random messaging the language of television and the synaptic schizophrenic snufflings of streetlights where crows in bad taste laugh at death and electric eels writhe …
The smoke cleared, crawling
The smoke cleared, crawling jujube bears like ants in brunetti fathom that such a sweet revelation! The fog’s felix culpa of disaster And die laughing. The law is frozen politics – and politics melts into stale disarray – did the …
the diary is a newstart fraud de art
the diary is a newstart fraud de art & i am just a small practitioner, strings & beans our memories promise us the threat of fresh massacres and stale elections props of the sovereign nation of the self and unending …
Man walks into bar.
Man walks into bar. the police blame the bar wallpaper, small window, the low mist hangs alcohol fumes climb the walls where dead men run a tab You think this is a joke said the ambulatory anus A haze of …
Once in a ruptured past before mutiny or Midnight’s Children,
Once in a ruptured past before mutiny or Midnight’s Children, on the telly, keepsakes on the grill, Everyone stares at the stranger on the black road contemplating the devil or a head in a shoebox where hands once shut a …
Single-parented most of the time, it’s a wonder
Single-parented most of the time, it’s a wonder the ash trees come out of the forest, look around, heavy scene, where I think it impossible to get lost or make enough sense to pretend how a child has to abort …
Run! Run! Run run run run! For a safe climate!
Run! Run! Run run run run! For a safe climate! take the trolley! & that box of something! tony abbott youre so cute i could skin you alive with a hammer. Nothing can hold it together. The skin of true …
The scissors hissed.
The scissors hissed. it had a calming effect on deirdre, taking her back to her spool-a-day youth the children in dirty blue tunics Mrs Craft, knitted out of wool the wiry hairs pulled out long and thick Fear is in …
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- Bradley Roberts: Great poem. I lived in Finland or eighteen months. Wonderful land
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