as.wings

power is such a
simple
disgusting

thing.

i would sew together
the cells i gave to you
with ink strands
laced with an
angel-wing-ed
feather-pen

if you let me.

your hands are still around my back.
and i'll keep them.

there.

until of course
you want them back

in which case i'll have to

re.
install

the ache which came prior
to the callouses on your
finger

tips

over a glass of water
and broke the clarity
with which it mocked

my dirty face

red with uncertainty
rouge with unstable

expect.
ations.

suri is the persian word for
crimson [is such a petty word]

used by romantics and cynics.
either for sex or blood.
for passion or for grief.

for loss.
or for loss.

the thought of equality
frightens me

the closer to the ground.
i am.
is all the better for.
if i fall while sitting.
i won't know the difference.

i'll disregard talk of such things
as wings

because the grass
which i clasp beneath my
curling [in prayer] palms-

-is your hair
and you are here.

in which the factory works on my lover, not he in the factory

if i could strip
your body

of time for a
chance to

search and
maybe i'll stumble

upon
the secret

pore

out of which

pours

the strongest
magnet

is of Gold Coasts
and sawdust.

eulogy.for.a.legend

she cuts through the streets
like a razorblade dream
she smells sulfur-smoke in the air
leaves a smile like amphetamine

shes the gutter glitter
in this landfill of a city
strangers sneer & point & stare
but she’ll never need such pity

he likes to ride life fast
the thrill of living every day
with an arrogant anticipation
knowing it could be his last

his leather jacket studded
with thread and colder steel
hes sewn his heart right on his sleeve
cos all he knows is how to feel

they line their lungs with tar and ice
cos all that matters is today
they know any moment changes all
& will take them all away

tonight the skies are overcast
there is not a star in sight
but you can hear the laughter ringing out
while they fight just one more fight

the coke, the dope, unneeded shit
they throw it all behind
they breathe air through each others mouths
that’s how they blow their minds

the house is old and worn like soil
but they don’t really care
“cos money is a tool”, they say
while teasing bleach-white hair

I wish the world could see them now
sneers on their burial faces
in winter they play musical graves
while interchanging all their places

dedicated to abby matthews. 1986-2006

vapour.footsteps

so she opens the ink jar again
unzips her skin and takes out an old pen
she writes of old train tracks and those whom she loves
she says "care for me, stay here again"

the light from the lamp is to bright
it pulls and scratches and stings at her eyes
but she keeps on reliving all of her summers
she says "care for me, never leave"

she calls him the first time gently
invisible smiles creep in too silently
he could never know how she wishes him safe
she says "i'll care for you, & never leave"

outside her footprints dance away
wrapping in the vapour and then led astray
but her feet only go when she lets them know
'its time to leave'

she lies down to sleep late at night
while ten thousand thoughts stay in her head and fight
but she has no fear, she imagines him near
and says
"shhh..."



ps.
yes. i am thinking of you.

windmills.

the windmills behind us had never stopped turning
but I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead
and we watched summer nights turn into mornings

you said our lives are only about learning
to never let old words into new beds
the windmills behind us had never stopped turning

i tilted my head and saw you were scorning
at the disappearing dusk with a hint of dread
and we watched summer nights turn into mornings

your hands and your car were filled with a meaning
of time which had long turned heel and fled
the windmills behind us had never stopped turning

the smell of the hay and the wood which was burning
choked all the fear I had built in my head
the windmills behind us had never stopped turning
and we watched summer nights turn into mornings

2004. [a pantoum]

what souls come nigh
under these stars
while ghosts shiver by
we watch from my car

under these stars
the sky had gone red
we watched from my car
and you thought you were dead

the sky had gone red
while you spoke to me words
you thought you were dead
because life was absurd

while you spoke to me words
I stared into space
you thought life was absurd
we should leave this place

I stared into space
while you toyed with your thumbs
we should leave this place
before we turn deaf blind & dumb

you played with your thumbs
like you played with my nerves
rendered me deaf blind & dumb
so we didn’t disturb

you played with my nerves
so I gave you a sigh
so as not to disturb
what souls may come nigh

within.you

with ev'ry candle lit
& dream left undisturbed
i have been there
in the rosy pale light of unwashed scenery
there i found silver on my wrists
& a crown upon my hair
and there i found you
melting together with the waves
of a china white beach
what thin silk warms me now?
my every motion is fluid
& i saw you still
your face above the misty sea
rose petals scattered from their hosts
and lined your mouth
but the wind blows inland
so i follow into the verdant beyond
where the lilies and fern lie
waiting for my delicate feet
to kiss them with my descent

wonder.full [a sestina]

as I child I was never told “no,
its impossible for someone to fly
and land feet first in fields of strawberry
blossoms and dinosaur bones
to spend weeks weaving intricate daisy masks
and running up mountains ‘till you collapse”

sometimes when it snowed I would collapse
and greet the people I pretended to know
the snowmen I built would never fly
but remain earth-bound, covered in strawberry
tinted handprints where the cold penetrated my bones
while the world became invisible under its white mask

when winter no longer would mask
the grass which appeared with the season’s collapse
I’d venture outside, into the suburban inferno
where the ice cream trucks would dance and fly
proclaiming the delights of its strawberry
sorberts and line the pavements with little mouse bones

I dug my toes into the sand, trying to reach the pirate bones
which were buried along with pearl mirrors and sand dollar masks
beneath the white hot orb, we collapsed
my friend and I, we were never to know
any better when the seagulls would above us fly
and we made them burst, their insides like strawberries

autumn always brought the death of the strawberry
blossoms and we made necklaces out of the bones
we found beneath the tragedy masks
in his attic, the boards of which seldom collapsed
but we trod carefully still, no
matter what, because unlike in my youth, I could not fly

my mother always said that time would fly
and that responsibility would replace strawberry
stains on my fingers and the little mouse bones
but adulthood did not slip on easily like a mask
and hope for an airbourne ice cream man never collapsed
and I never took a liking to hearing “no”

[[see, no one has ever seen time fly
by like strawberry fields on a road of dust and bones
and I'll refuse the mask of logic until the day I collapse]]

irony setting in from the season whence saint valentine chose to start living

despite the snow-
the air is a shard of glass.
rubbing up against my skin.
and i breathe in wood and sand.
freezing rain scrapes off dead cells.
and introduces new tissue into the harsh tundra of monotony.
but i know
if water was to fall untouched from the sky
and if our bodies would shiver not.
outside of our second habitats.
that we would clasp hands like it was the end of the world.
[so tightly our fingers would start to meld]

and start to run.

'There were some younger kids who followed the tracks that day

It was a passing afternoon that came and took them away

So we forgot our names lying in the tall grass under the billboard dreams

Oh I'll be with you running from the rain

When it reaches the end of the line

See myself reflected on the broken glass

As the gates come crashing down

There is blood on the tracks tonight

And rust inside our veins

We will make it time before the storm'

-"Running From the Rain"

Credits: Taylor Williams for photography & Thursday for lyrics

speed.of.memory

i forgot how to mourn today
letting the dead stay buried wasn't the easiest thing to do
but they haven't moved yet

he called today
before i answered the phone i smiled
he didn't say anything

"hey. how are you?"

he said words to me until i had to go
three minutes and fifty-four seconds later

i wonder why he called.
i hadn't a moment to myself to breathe all day.
rushing from building to building
like a bee steering from
iris to daisy to tulip

although i haven't thought today-
i'm still glad that my only breath
was wasted on him.

love.like.winter

i was worried about you.
despite the way you pulled the hope from me
like candy floss from a string,
why do you get to upset when people care?
are you really as much of a waste of time as people say you are?
because i've refused to believe them.
I'VE REFUSED TO BELIEVE THEM.
i throw all of your broken promises away
and look boldly past your faults.
are you sure that this is what you want?
to push me away like this?
the snow is falling fast
and you are burying yourself even faster.
if you want me gone...
i'll go.
just tell me.
i've tried to be good to you.
i've tried to be everything that everyone else wasn't.
i wanted to be your best friend.
your lover.
if anything---an incentive for you to take care of yourself.
i may as well have been a martyr.
you're killing me, you know.
the flakes outside are tinted pink
with broken-heart-liquid
and what feels like the last time we'll talk.

-a-