Monday, March 23, 2009
Your dream (haiku)
Lately I have feared
drowing. You shoot my white horse.
I'm buried at sea.
drowing. You shoot my white horse.
I'm buried at sea.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Small Hands
I remember your skin, I do.
The way your fingers pressed against mine.
Very very very softly.
Almost as if you weren't pressing at all.
Almost as if you were dead.
The screams followed me
Down the hall
They lifted me on to a trolley
And I was silent
I did not complain.
Even though I feared death
Even though I was dead.
Their cries came before their happiness
My sadness caused no screams.
I did not make a sound.
I did not make a sound.
The way your fingers pressed against mine.
Very very very softly.
Almost as if you weren't pressing at all.
Almost as if you were dead.
The screams followed me
Down the hall
They lifted me on to a trolley
And I was silent
I did not complain.
Even though I feared death
Even though I was dead.
Their cries came before their happiness
My sadness caused no screams.
I did not make a sound.
I did not make a sound.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
All My Friends Are Leaving Brisbane
Margaret & David are reviewing a film
It feels like they were talking to me
I feel homesick, sad and hungry
I miss my Mum & think of things I left behind
My soul and skin is starved for the sunshine and Sunday sessions
For days/nights forgotten and remembered
I miss Brisbane
It feels like they were talking to me
I feel homesick, sad and hungry
I miss my Mum & think of things I left behind
My soul and skin is starved for the sunshine and Sunday sessions
For days/nights forgotten and remembered
I miss Brisbane
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
It is my friend's birthday
It is your birthday soon.
We are no longer friends.
So maybe it's all over
for these two G-Town Audreys
who have sinned against
each other and themselves.
We cringe when we remember.
We sleep another night in silence.
Singing dischordant parts in a song
Where harmony doesn't matter.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday dear Monica.
Happy birthday to you.
We are no longer friends.
So maybe it's all over
for these two G-Town Audreys
who have sinned against
each other and themselves.
We cringe when we remember.
We sleep another night in silence.
Singing dischordant parts in a song
Where harmony doesn't matter.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday dear Monica.
Happy birthday to you.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The city
The city looks like glass.
It has been raining and
my eyes are cold.
It has been raining and
my eyes are cold.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Let us fold our arms together
and walk along any cold street
in this annoying city.
Yours is the body I desire,
so lean and tall. I like you so much.
You talk and don't talk.
You give me your money always.
It's like a dream to me.
All those $20 notes from your pocket.
You invented me and showed me off
like a little glass ornament.
But I still love you. You are me.
And I am you.
and walk along any cold street
in this annoying city.
Yours is the body I desire,
so lean and tall. I like you so much.
You talk and don't talk.
You give me your money always.
It's like a dream to me.
All those $20 notes from your pocket.
You invented me and showed me off
like a little glass ornament.
But I still love you. You are me.
And I am you.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
seven or eight shirts
It was black and white
for Derby Day. And brown
for a manicured hand
leaving a silver trail,
like a diamond garden snail
down a torso in a birdcage
on raceday. A threadcount
not counted, but torn down.
A peach, not eaten but inhaled.
A powder room not used,
but talked about at lunch.
A train too full of individuals,
a jittering crowd spilling out
into a greengrass enclosure.
A glass held to a camera
with a big laugh and teeth,
a champagne zoom lens,
a newspaper, a formguide.
for Derby Day. And brown
for a manicured hand
leaving a silver trail,
like a diamond garden snail
down a torso in a birdcage
on raceday. A threadcount
not counted, but torn down.
A peach, not eaten but inhaled.
A powder room not used,
but talked about at lunch.
A train too full of individuals,
a jittering crowd spilling out
into a greengrass enclosure.
A glass held to a camera
with a big laugh and teeth,
a champagne zoom lens,
a newspaper, a formguide.
