George Cox



Unmentionable

It is almost never 7 o’clock in the morning in Melbourne city, after the trains run out of the dark, lit only by passengers I’m shopping for kinds of winter letting the marshmallow in my [brand] [brand-specific size] hot chocolate …

Posted in 112: TREAT | Tagged

poem in which I briefly know what utopia will feel like

Don’t worry, baby / there’s another one in ten minutes / why don’t I read you this passage / from volume two / ?

Posted in 106: OPEN | Tagged