Brett Lee

By | 10 April 2003

(in a michael slater moment)


dropped dropping into
a torment

my poetry alone will save the world

the breeze
speed of my delivery

quickly cannot believe seriously how

quickly i regain my pace and accuracy
i am still young my head is clear i have

beautiful hair and an attractive face …

the fucking perfect animal that i am
the perfect line

that i make in the mirror animal that

i am my perfect skin my fine hair
i am not yet indestructible but i am close

i will make a come back

cooking with gas
cooking with

gas the selectors will have no choice

in their face rock and roll putting it
right up there

in the blockhole

i can see already the fear in the batsmans
feet the horror in the toe of his bat

the willow is arcing

back on itself
sweating linseed oil like eyes

the landscape is full of terrified eyes

the batsman
is barely side-on

anymore but

facing me craig mcmillan i am shane
warne bowling to his bunnies


white lights
i am only an arm

brett whitelees bowler

snapping up
wickets like

destiny got us going faster than weve ever gone before

snapped up by blockholes
donnie darko i make

holes in time

mercury long revd lines kookaburra 156grams
kookaburra 156km/h

i will take

21 wickets in two games
i have eaten my weet-bix i

m still young

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