the broken wings of spent birds, flying until overweight
with pollution & a closing sky
th broken promises that saw a short,
dry cleaned pedestrian questioning his small existence
only later,
a reduction in afternoon
the broken child confused in a mix
master of red-brick dust & mother's [underrated] cooking
th broken voices
beside an unused lake, the view beautiful to the unharmed eye
the broken package of blunt genetials re-inventing themselves
as consumable Art &
god
the broken radiator flung hard against conversations
about the Whitlam years, uranium toothpaste, closed
insomnia & other forgotten miscarriages
the broken sound of two mountains banging
together in the middle of Israel & indifferent prophets
th broken narrative
homogenised in a plastic wrapping of expectant public hygiene
and lack of attention to the word: nature
th broken fences keeping the small distance
b/w my first masturbation & the bible sticking against my skin
the broken fridge door slammed after a morning walk into
the stick forest once known as everything
th broken geography of slow unremoveable breast
cancer and my dead mother wanting to die
the broken flesh that surrounds the boundaries of my flannelette
pyjamas
the broken sibling
hiding under a carcass pillow of heroin like a swollen bedsheet
the broken verse submerged in an unfathomable blue sea of multinationals,
nameless thirst & hunger
th broken ideal begun in front of 200 white skinned males without any
hint of revolution
the broken light seen
catching a passenger train, moving across my suburban paths, and finally
resting, illuminated like a yellow scrapbook
th broken furniture wanting a smaller room
the broken toy borrowed a thousand times
without repair, tin eyes and a considerable skin
the broken poem
like a na??òve pilgrim entering a neighbourhood milk-bar only to see his
own image tattooed on a cigarette packet
the broken man found
nailed between the naked walls of his own white bread sandwich
the broken dreams & dream.
this sticky tape life.