Amaneurosis
My hand is pressed hard against the window, and I am looking at the bloodlessness of my fingertips and the soft cracking off-white paint on the wooden windowsill.
The Keymaster
Maybe the changing decimal places send a buzz that fizzles down from the billboard into the cabling, through the machine and into buttons, shocking their paper thin flesh and pulsating through their nerves?
A Good Host
It begins inside me as a change in weather, a subtle dampness seeping into what I had assumed was stable internal architecture.
Good Enough
When my great grandfather died late in the night in Poland, we were pulled out of bed by our sobbing mother. Everyone quickly slipped into black clothes so we could comfort our immediate grandfather.
The Creatures in my Greenhouse March for Australia
Though some might argue that the roses had it coming, blaming their lack of resistance, too fragrant, too passive, too much.
Love, Death, Knitting
I still had bell hooks. And I still had my grandma. Knitting’s always helped, too.
How to figure out the way
Someone left their tarot cards and a book called Narcissism: Denial of the True Self in my room after a party at the old house.
11 November 2023
In my memories, we’re still just clueless children climbing water towers, alcohol running in our blood, watching the forest from above, under the summer sun.
How to be known
A brown glass decanter, bound in red leather. A sleeping pill bottle, unscrewed. A yellow pitcher. An empty toothpaste tube, A lightbulb, illuminated by cool fluorescence.
Confessions with Caroline
She left in a flutter of perfume, cashmere, and the faint clatter of keys. The diffuser exhaled one last measured sigh of peppermint. Dr Clarke capped the pen, glanced at the clock, and opened the next file.
LIMERENT LIGHT CONES
O my faun my hunter you are the soul of the whole room yes there is something in you in the curves of your cheekbones and the strands of hair; in pearlescent earrings, in the corners of your face in you, you are the edelweiss on the acme of Qaf or Meru
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The Yabbies
I am drowning under the river red gum, slipping between mud and silt—who can tell the difference?
Man And A Woman
He pictured the half-chewed bread inside her mouth, pulp dissolving with saliva. He thought of her body as porous, dissolving, leaking: the reminder that borders between inside and outside were never clean.
I am unsure if you can hold the weight of this.
Again, I dream that my teeth fall out (this is a dream about control).
Poetry and Consciousness In The Present
Scholars of the Global North sometimes shelter themselves in neo-colonial positions when confronted with revolutionary praxis.