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Showing posts from September, 2009

perilous

being in the yard and looking down onto the yard late in the weekend when rain sits behind the hour calling there’s something of it you played real under trees a light at the top of your head when you enter there you will not come back

la vida loca

‘I wanted to get lost in the city’ someone came up the drive ‘I guess you two know each other’ it’ll take time we’ll make a long story even longer going to sleep stretches the night enjoying the acrobat music needing to move, ‘to do nothing’ it was a lot of work to finish high school one day I picked up the phone I flew to Mexico City next Friday I debuted in this show in the first six months I realised ‘talk to me yeah baby' ‘like, every woman in history’ after the show I hopped a plane, went to Italy living la vida loca imagine the press release ‘I stopped for a second’ I'll die and think about those days I need to play with my dogs I look in the mirror in a Japanese hotel what became of the weeklong party?

to persist

in a life crowded with secrets and hours open to them, windows with too much movement, strange airs, unbalanced directions, particulars, graces, oceans they are athletic keeping watch on night thinking, they're not sure who they love most, does it matter if a kiss doesn’t arrive on time, take off its text, hide it in quiet, if no secret still persist

quarantine

Where did that truth go? Off maps, cut at edges The carpet, too, is shaking It also has blood, is closing on ground Lines to read a picture of death and wood bones crack All I have, my feet and thin palms as morning stamps my back Lost map, lost stars, soul’s spine

the elements

How clear is the night air, its wings are corner of the eye stuff, falling, primordial, as you talk to yourself, why did we part, friend, when did the dust come? Be careful, do not walk home alone, but where do you belong? Backwards and forwards through time, in what’s lost, weather patterns won’t leave me alone. We need to see the photographs before we choke on flowers, on flames, quartzite energies. What is wrong with the elements, who has locked the door, what is that rain, is it ancient or televisual? Drowning in the air you need a drink.

animalia

I'm heading over east this week, first to do some things in Sydney and then heading up to Newie, en train, so to speak, to do a panel discussion and a reading for the critical animals gigs at TINA. Sat 3 Oct: 9.30am – 11.00am CONTEMPORARY POETICS (LOOKING IN): THE PLACE OF THE EXPERIMENTAL IN CONTEMPORARY AUSTRALIAN POETRY City Hall: Banquet Room Is experimental poetry now the norm in Australia and what does experimental mean in 2009? Who makes up the audience for experimental poetry? Does the diversity in Australian poetic practice entail a progressive, permissive playing-field? This engaging and exploratory panel discussion includes readings by the panellists. Featuring: Stu Hatton, Derek Motion, Michael Farrell, Jill Jones Facilitator: Aden Rolfe Sun 4 Oct: 9.00 – 10.00am BREAKFAST POETRY COLLAGE READING City Hall: Banquet Room A selection of Australia’s most interesting experimental poets read their collaged and cut-up works. Come and join us for coffee, a croissant a

miasma

Smoke died in the air my cavities taste it higher than hidden waste sight under lids blisters flame rock scent distances air still more miasma

mistakes

What if there were no signs, and you took a wrong turning and made a mistake? What if signs were no longer important?