Poem
the riot marches down pour lemonade into yr filters
watch it fizz w/ the aura of philosophy
confit the poor t ...
Like a teacup in a snowstorm I
Find you and break you. A sentry reptile, I advise you
To return quietly to the campfire. You mistakenly took
My interest in theology for a strategy
her temper tanty's sus but your mites say sassy where the pert velvet diva never lets you rest daze of body & soul come to a / won’t come to an for Marcia Langton The rock-art guide, combusting Gwion rock art from the 'Tassel era' is happy art, Toby Fitch A soft October morning, in sleep. It is one with at a window pane, bewildered The coffee cup, double espresso, a dark reaffirmation. ... after Horace, Odes I, v What slim-hipped beachboy dripping for him you have braided soon, black moods, black
's entering the pleather dome lookin'
poised w/ noose & savvy much obliged to
glorify her cunning firm & tout
its nous for oblivion
your glass head in which infinite
pools rotating w/ lust
voice toots from the comments field
dissing your angel
end on this / the last night of dearth
brows
States of Poetry 2016 - Victoria | 'Australian awe: white guys on life and art before 1788' by A. Frances Johnson
in 43 degrees, back to image.
His sloppy dreamtime
a melted ice-cream,
far from refrigerated sublime.
though contentiously attributed and dated, he says,
authoritative white sweater in white sweater.
Recording
adagio sostenuto. Some part
of me is still delayed
night, with daylight
stars, moths that fumble
that this tract of sky,
like no other, will not yield.
is deeper than it looks.
Each sip I take
with musk is riding you
now on a bed of roses
in your snug den, Pyrra? Is it
those honey-gold locks
in a knot so neat, so
homely? One day
looks, he'll be cursing
you and the fickle
gods who have ...