There’s something wronpg with my brain tonight,Though I’ve drawn the blinds and I’ve quenched the light;I can’t for the life of me sleep a wink,I lie in the dark and think; and think.While the hours creep by and the clock ticks loud, Like the steady tramp of a marching crowd;And the forms and faces of […]

One Aunty says — / I don’t remember. Her mother says / she was only half. The other Aunty says / we’re nearly white.

a niet v pokoji pokoja / there is no peace in peace — Andrej Sládkovič, Marinapushing against the thin walls of the weekend with all the pent-up sexual energy ofan apology Sidney’s Defence is an alphabet soup hunger & I’m broadcasting myconfession into corporate Australia sort of like a book but wanting — no – […]

An Elegy Carnival Red our brittle carapace charges eightlanes wide of Platzgeist Square,                 its on-board horn ejaculating in long formant wavefronts — a slur! Galvanised in canned entropic automation Crude, snorting obsolete injectables deep in the spider-fucking hours                 of cardboard cups and gluey eyes,                 we ride! To the degenerate hum of auxless shock jocks’ purple […]

Night rains chafing through flyscreens, the dog gymnastic with love and all the things I said on the way to bed about helicopter doctors.

A flower called SELFHEAL, in Latin begins GROSSE, meaning course. All afternoons: cross-legged, elbows crushing, blood cut off from that point down.

The worm of white on white, the whey and milk of white, the chalk on milk and the bone, break of bone, egg-wash and acrylic, ash, soft drifts of ash, hoarse coughs of ash, snow also, laid lightly on snow, piled on it, blindingly bright, blanched, bled and white static, brushed pallid,

By the totem of a rabbit In a week of ever softer landings On a sheet doubling as a projector screen As a flowerhorn swims into view Through the light that crouches in the corner While you are waking In that first morning waking up next to you In the part of me that once might have been polyester That fills tentatively with organs again

The bowl of citrus-scented Sicilian olives you ate one by one sucking the pips of until what you tasted was your own blood only demonstrates more clearly all one eats already soon will be oneself.

In the evening we walk past the ruined castle towards the loch. The sun is setting behind us. There is a walled garden full of rose bushes without a single bloom. It’s too late in the season.

& millenials are like: born too late to own a house / born too soon to be a tiktok star born just in time to / have paid 99 cents for a ringtone & Gen X couples in covid are like: my partner out hunting and gathering (grocery shopping) while i hold down and protect the fort (smoking weed) & a billboard above a Greggs says: Be Brave

started with the car not starting, helms deep / being that great freeze of 2021 — powerless / as a tesla in lubbock texas, we lived off elbow / grease, canned peaches, and lean donkey meat

Days pinch and lately I’ve noticed every time I look in the mirror I’m squinting—maybe it’s a grimace. Without trying I’ve mastered the façade of a Besser block threatened by a mallet, by which I mean maybe the world won’t kill me but it’ll definitely hurt and I’ve got to be ready.