Futurity begins now with leftovers sunglasses trying too hard along with cheapskates a kind of pink plastic essence * Destiny stinks! * What if we went crazy in the carpark a scuffle on the grease The green bag is torn beside it, a line of ants working hidden in the glare * What now! The […]

Factories sulk with sweat and grit Cafes and hairdressers wild with renewed hustle Slick-back and jet-black and conk shaved of sick disarray, and one dark fringe longer and falling without the need to flick it back.

blah moon smoulders as I careen        like a pulsar towards hot blah summer           I am failing       flailing       feeling    in a thalassic blah       in a time where I can’t hear the constant hum of the earth above the hum of mass air conditioning      originally invented to help ink dry & stop pages warping       it now entombs us in productivity      delusion lives in the phrase climate control         I think of sweat as a type of release    a friend texts me      did u know we work almost twice as much as medieval peasants? fml                     why am I

Raspberries didn’t always come in plastic punnets. Pinkish pixel villages, bleeding at the slightest pressure. Raspberries blast my tastebuds. Red juice runs along blemished fingers into a ravenous mouth, a flash and snare of tangled canes in the valley.

Little is known about workplace health promotion for bus drivers. That’s exactly how it started: a string of words shaping space into something resembling an idea. Of course, she said, there are always substitutes for the real thing. They worried at it, let it go, and in the rear view mirror there were the back slappers, as usual, jerking off over line breaks. You could say—as fact—dolphin were leaping through winter trees.

she existed in masks: lorikeets loudest in the mornings, leaves deliberating on a breezy day, blinds fluttering against the sill, the hum of conversation on the footpath by her window, Fleetwood Mac, her fingers on the keyboard (tippity-tap), her anxious dog’s paws pattering on the floorboards, her husband’s snoring at 3am, the off-and-on whir of […]

They’ve made yoghurt in space / There’s a fish called a chimera / There are too many grudges to hold / Not all luck should be good / Face masks take 450 years to breakdown / Power prices rise as benchmarks crumble

raw bone scrapes / wires through bared soles of feet & tin-can telephone voice to braindead hours like windowdraught. there are killing words of pure hypnotism, too, as though a contrary fact cld alter the physics of it. they whisper constantly.

Today my laptop registers like an organ like I can feel it, even from the other side of the house I should find my own rotten way back to some kind of mindfulness practice I should open the windows of my dark room I should read more of the works of celebrated poet Mary Oliver she wrote about geese—which is huge

You have to do it badly. If it is poetry, even more so, because there is no because. If you write like you were the best in the world, you are the worst because you pretend too hard. Too harsh, too. Why do you want to be the best? Is that because you are a lack or there is a lack in you that you feel like filling up all the time? Even when you are named the best, does that mean anything?

Stranger who was flesh and marrow of my bone How far and lonely have you comeIn seven years. A little space of timeAnd yet your universe and mine To separate worlds in different orbits spinI sense a wild kaleidoscope within your brain But cannot enter in. Once your eyes reflected but a single world And […]

Mparntwe | Alice Springs claypans Each time you walk take a bag for the rubbish, for the weeds. Stride out then confuse the dog as you stop over and over, like you are picking at treasure. You dig with the heel of your boot at the sea of three-corner-jack prickles and remind yourself next time to bring gloves.

i’d like to count two million freckles as a mindfulness exercise fat yellow moon slung low across the water jordan peterson says not beautiful rosewater spreads across the sunset sky brit mum still hopeful after four miscarriages, one in toilet morning sun glints fierce and wide from the ripples

The day I took my students to hear Question Time A Minister, Peter Dutton, said inhibited for inhabited but of course he's not in relation to Operation Overarch and seventeen of the two hundred islands between Australia and PNG that might harbour agents of the COVID disease

brick poems solid poems prick poems concrete poems keep out poems rest in peace cat of edward street mossy paperbark poems bluegum carpark poems sold gold fish with pond plants poems squished poems and tied-up poems ropes and boats poems

It begins for the same reasons: spark, air and ready material, grassless under conifer. You study a wax diorama of the soon-to-be Antarctic jungle, ornithischian dinosaurs—eating a plastic fern—named after Qantas; you’re exhuming the bones of an Airbus A330 beside the Pteranodons,