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Category Archives: Reprint
(for Charles Bukowski) in the old empire they placed milestones on the road to mark the distance from Rome from Senate and slaves Cicero, bread and circuses: life or death in the decision of a dictator’s thumb in reverse they … Continue reading
slow moving nights pull stories from the sky from behind your eyes like wondering if we’ll be pulled over for that broken taillight on the short drive home we piece syllables together one by one but from a distance the … Continue reading
there is a quiet storm that gathers inside when the words don’t come when the mess refuses to be made right when the entire history of a civilisation from Socrates down the inner life of a species is drowned beneath … Continue reading
it was a cold one on the esplanade in Hobart the markets were set up, I was hungover and you somewhat less so, but we managed to walk through it all buy coffee, resist overpriced realist landscapes of locations nondescript … Continue reading
grey skies, slick bitumen heartache hurls itself into the world, grateful to be heard—at the place where burnt rubber curved black lines over the edge (the space between two points on a map, erased) I wonder if it was inclination, … Continue reading
The speckled path traces a line on which patina time will mark. A clock that chimed important hours, observing prayers and reading page; from clammy palms timidly stretched for reading creases, forward years. A pared wood cup sweat globule-dripped, then … Continue reading