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Tag Archives: D. S. Maolalai
and you look up and pull at the moonlight. it resists a little, like a plum from a tree branch, then – snap – and you have it, spongy as a plum in your hand. you grab a bit of … Continue reading
I shower and swamp the room with steam; come out clean and blind as a newborn puppy. can’t even find the towel and there’s a puddle on the floor where I pissed and missed the toilet, and the tiles are … Continue reading
bent on my shelf like vandalised gravestones; my library is taking some weather to stand. well, I say shelf; it’s a small apartment so mostly they sit on the windowsill though there are some shelves bolted to the wall. there … Continue reading
so caterpillars crawl like mountaineers and wasps dig red flesh from rotten wood and your lips abroad will brush with other lips like teacups and your hands reach other hands at night. and your teeth will laugh and your eyes … Continue reading
people gain detail like tombstones in reverse. my fingers a matchbook story of scars and knobbles; broken wineglasses and slammed shut doors. my forehead over one eye like a pirate. my knees and down along my ribcage. permanent. time chipping … Continue reading
the spade cuts grass with the force of a blunt knife rubbing in an overdone steak. the dog is with me in the garden. sickly and slow, he limps the lawn and sniffs fresh earth as it turns out, square … Continue reading