sharps (pot au feu)

i am sit­ting in a darkened cinema rolling a spiky metal ringup and down my fin­ger­s­press­ing in sharpto stop myself scratch­ing­sigils into skin again it’s his­tory          soup that has been sim­mer­ing­through generations…

Drifting

It’s the week­end again and the rain lashes the windows.I’d had some thought of weed­ing the garden, but the wind­Has other ideas. These arti­fi­cial dis­tinc­tions we make­B­etween work­day and rest — we’ve been home for 63 daysAnd one blends into another. I could have…

The 6th Great Extinction

There are no platy­pus under the bridge again today. It’s the fourth week in a row and we all ask each other Instead of hello, “Seen any platy­pus?” — hope­ful And each time, it’s “Not today… not for a while…” None of us know whether it’s sea­sonal, but we all fear It’s…

POETRY

Catastrophe

I am not entirely cer­tain how any of us make it through unscathed, what with spit­ting frying pans just out of reach and the tempta­tion of round­abouts revers­ing cars in drive­ways epi­dem­ics from exotic loc­ales the drunk driver who slams into the rear of the car…

Recipe for joy

Here’s how I ima­gined it: Take one house, prefer­ably custom-built; add care­ful wrought-iron fix­tures and a wooden spiral stair, ceil­ing-high book­shelves, a garden filled with lav­ender and wis­teria. Place in a rolling yard back­ing onto rain­forest, a sand­stone path…

Imbolc spell

In the still night, you, the moon, the water. Safe in my belly, my little turtle, Come ven­ture into the light, my daugh­ter Amidst the chaos, her father caught her, held her tight, so, tiny, poignant, mortal. In the still night: you, the moon, the water. Those first…

5am feed

Your hold on the earth is so much less tenu­ous now I have sus­tained you with my body amaz­ing thought your mouth to my breast eyes locked with mine filled with trust tiny hands tra­cing ancient angelic sigils on my skin your voice has changed from the frail bird-like…

Bury Me

I want to be worm food. Give me a while yet, under the sun, but then, when it’s time, lay me down under a gum tree and let it feed on me. I want to be worm food. Let those sight­less beasts wriggle into secret cav­it­ies, making me richer, tastier, more nutri­tious for…

Stories

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Politics

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