Poems in the wild #14 and #15 (aka, catching up)

Two poems released this week, to catch up because of slack.

#14 (four of hearts) was released in the little building thingy outside the Architecture building at Melbourne Uni:

Memories of tedious vessels
drawn out to vanishing point
pale limbs in a choppy mirror, teased
out like spindle fibres. Almost gossamer
enough to drown the clench of teeth:
you forgot your wallet
and let me pay your oblivious way.
And us dumped on greasy boards
swimming against the rip-off
on a three-course pedestal.
I lived off the smell of menus,
you lived off me.
Downstairs into too much purple
the end of jazz and start of cigars.
We drank like we had a ticket home.
I stared at my face in the bar mirror
fading carefully from view,
curtained by dollar signs.


#15 (king of diamonds) was released outside the Food Co-Op in Union House, Uni of Melbourne:

I poked holes into the paper
to let through the words.
An advertisement for dawn
wrote bright copy on the horizon.
Still the blank sky pasted over
in cheap printer paper.
All night, and the deadline
still black and sleeping.
I put my eye to a lower case 'o'
a trick of the focus-puller
curing myopia.
If I kept the page to my face
for longer, long enough?


@snarkattack found another of my poems, unfortunately it must have done some wandering beforehand as the poem had long since disintegrated in the rain. A natural death.

Poems in the wild #13

Poem #13 (ace of hearts) was released by the lovely @timsterne on the 251 bus on the 8th of June.

In the breathy chill
of school mornings
after porridge (brown
sugared) and not going too
near your hot coffee,
After toothpaste foamed
away in spirlas,
Your rough hands
plaited ribbons through my
hair like a long goodbye
held safe by the welcome
of every afternoon bell
winding me home again.


I've been getting a bit behind on this, having one cold after another and parenting and working full time has taken a bit of a toll.

And to be honest, I'm really not feeling like writing anything at the moment. The other night I had a thought:

"I wonder if I'm brave enough not to write?"

The answer is most likely "probably not", but it's still interesting thought.

Poems in the wild #12

Poem #12 (3 of spades) was released on a table indoors at Tsubu bar at Melbourne Uni, provider of nomulent Japanese food and pourer of beers.

I lay down on the couch after lunch

because I could not do anything else.

80s fiction feminist pastel cushions

slid hours askew under my shoulders.

I tightened my eyes and the belt around

my chest, recognised a fake chill in

my lungs. There is a name for this fierce

clench of jaw and paused body.

You wanted lunch. I fell into the

enormity of kitchen: stretching

fridge hinges cutlery drawers jangling

veins against arteries against

too many tomatoes. I was still on the couch.

Your forehead on mine, without words.

Eyes pink, teeth blue, lips white – no.

Hand palm out:  a stop sign on my cheek.

You looked at me like a kite, so far up.

Your string-taut fingers on my face, awake.