Thursday, 4 June 2020
Poem 49
a star shaped bag
from bar to bar
we waltzed
along the tram lines
i bit your lip
it bleeds
the envelope arrived
bringing news from
those etrurian places
of comfort
the shirt barely hides
your happiness to see me
on the court bench
she sat
with the map of the past
now, useless
my nails rip your flesh
scratches on your back
one cobbled street
becomes too many
under the archway
a shadow
your mouth is white
from yesterday’s delight
five flights of stairs
an immaculate set of towels
from the balcony, we gazed
the silver river
now, it’s my turn
my back is sticky
from you
and wild, so wild
those things
the window is opened
i’m cold
the kettle whistles
breakfast time
my hand on your thigh
don’t do it, you said
the morning paper
unsettles me
must go, to the park
and back
in the dark
playing cowboys and indians
by the water we hid
until it’s quiet
the next day,
the red stain is missing
it never happened
yet, it did
Poem 48
i garden
you sea
hey, amaze
me
such
sadness
like a
frame
of an
animated movie
the clock
that
runs
backwards
went forward
i should have
been there
but the
fever
come
prostrating
me
whilst
the
chocolate fudge
freezed overnight
and the
flowers were
thrown
to the lark
passing by
farewell
Poem 47
If there is money
There is!
Do you have a bag of it?
If so, send it over
And then?
I would gamble it at the Casino.
Or did you thought I would re-release the record?
And then?
I would invest in the Stock Market.
And re-release the record.
And would buy red sandals
And then?
I would marry a Sailor
And visit Prague
And would play the tambourine
And then?
I would plant a cherry tree
And swim on a cloud
And would run with it
And then?
I would comply, but No
And, instead, sleep
And would photograph a memory
And then?
I would write a song
Yes, that song
And the band would play it
And the dogs would bark
And then?
I would ask you "and then?"
And spiced the leaves
And would take the train
And then, you would ask me,
And then? Then, ... then, I would go
And smile and be me
Wednesday, 6 May 2020
Art Inspired by Instagram photos of Ursel August Creative Residency's garden. Florbela
Monday, 27 April 2020
Art inspired by Waves of Anzac part of Mick Harvey's new album.
The Wasteland I (barley, red wine and watercolour on paper). |
The Wasteland II (barley, red wine and watercolour on paper). |
The Wasteland III (barley, red wine, crayon and watercolour on paper) |
The Wasteland IV (barley and red wine on paper) |
The interview with Mick Harvey about Waves of ANZAC/The Journey can be read here:
Monday, 17 February 2020
Poem 46
he looked and looked
traveled the seven seas
and the five deserts
for forty days
from nineveh to ashur
after a shower to put out
the fire of tornadoes
rattling the earth
unresting the soul
quietness eluding him
through mountains and plains
further and further
from silence, numb
uruk and ur in sight
lawrence on the bend
blue eyes turned black
skeleton, crow, crocodile
disjointed movements
demons singing lullabies
praising you
on the road to damascus
trick or treat
a russian roulette
of pomegranates
handmade in tails
of sorrow
Poem 45
Lust is always right
Demanding jealous mistress
Never ending want
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed, long dead
We all long for it
Deny it while sober
A few bourbons later
We cry for it
on a friend’s shoulder
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
No favourites, you say
Just Jenny, Mandy and Mary
Dancing
Dancing
In the rear mirror
Of feelings
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
Yellow, blue, grey
Matching jumpers
Desire in a ramp
Bouncing back
To those golden days
Of imperfect perfection
A shotgun wedding
With the rule of law
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
Fallen curtain, hidden veil
Muddy waters, sweet twinge
Balacing the tightrope
Of day and night
Raised eyebrows
Unfruitful search of mellow
Evenings riddled with
Joyfull seeds of lust
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