Failing you, my loves

Resentment pooling

Babies drooling

My last nerve spooling on a finite thread

Who am I fooling?

It’s not my calling 

I’m falling, failing, where is my head


My teeth are grinding 

On this ring-tight binding

And I keep finding a pinching dread

This endless minding

I’m forever pining

For solitude from whining, an empty bed 


The moon is waning 

Upon these sheets you’re staining

I’m entertaining thoughts of rest

Morning’s gaining

Nipples aching

Guilted grief weighing, down on my chest

Please stop crying

Fuck’s sake I’m dying

Two defying children atop my breast

I’m not denying

It’s your childhoods I’m defining 

I am your mother, but I don’t know best


Am I going mad?

Or is it this deepening fog

That’s left me just a slice of an unsmudged person

Pillars, towers, a fortress of fungi have filled the space between my ears

And like a malfunctioning VCR I spit out the same words ad infinitum 

‘No!’ ‘Stop!’ ‘Come here!’ ‘Eat your dinner!’

My teeth grinding, pupils swimming on this endless bad trip 

Anxiety and sleep deprivation, like a virgin user this shimmering, gelatinous wall passes over me

I shiver in that peaking instant, my eyes fixed on a yellow bar of venetian light

Hazel-green ringed in red

Fingers tipped in sticky yolk,

My body creaks and spills from its cordless robe,

A collar of fingerprinted vegemite

I am Gulliver trapped and pinned

Swaying under the arms and legs of tiny people conquering me like a mountain

Pulling skin and plucking hairs 

Sampling a smorgasbord of human tortures

The sludge of dormant fury grows hot in my capillaries 


(Can I ever close my eyes?)

Flurries of dust catch fire 

Paint flakes off in sheets 

The light never stops fucking streaming 


Fertility, Fertility, Fertility,
Fertility, Fertility, Fertility,
Fertility, Fertility, Woe is me,

The one who dwells between your knees.
Hold me squeeze at the heart of the seed
That flows freely where tongues have no keys
Where the answer is blowing through the trees,
Rustle the right way my dearest, please,
And fill these graham crackers with your
Marshmallow sweets and come with me,
Not once, but infinity

Fertility, Fertility,

The atmosphere embedded with a thousand
Latent pregnancies that tease at the heart
Of the ancient graveyard galaxies, you don’t need
A map for these, You feel your way with that great
Hairy millipede chest that seems to rest
So peacefully until it gets a nibble of that foul
Fleshy fantasy, abandons me for some
Almond-filled pastry,

Fertility, Fertility,

Did you find what you were looking for
Sailing overseas?
Did it look a little different than your
Favourite movies?
Did it sneeze down the throat of your
$10 smoothie?
Could you match the tone of its
Mangled Cantonese, or did you merely
Find the limits
Of your own abilities?

Fertility, Fertility

Come walk with me, let’s toss aside the mantras
And the peppermint tea, for we both know
That neither help you sleep these
Days when the brown speckled wings and the slow
Buddhist streams only seem to anger thee, and
Let us look upon our ministry, that three legged
Mouth to feed, where the fox jumps over
The path we lead, for it’s cracked and bleeds
From a punctured bruise we hide between
Our teeth,
But I know there must be a melody.
A chance to leave this all behind and leap
Into a reality far beyond this failed
Dance we breed,

Fertility, Fertility, Fertility come with me.

Nothing is as it should be; Everything is alright

I am a dark-feathered duck,
Back to the current,
Blinded to where it all leads
But content to sit in its lap.

I know that you are waiting
Across the other side,
And our no-reception phone-calls sound like Satan
Bleating down the line,

But give it time, I’m sure you’ll see
That I’ll wait for you and you for me,
And we will stand among these trees,
Roots tied together with hearts set free.

But, yes, for now we lie in prisons,
These great iron bars blocking our vision,
And every “Bonne nuit” feels like an incision
Into our troubled minds.

Excuse me please, for these brief reprieves
Where I must leave your soul
For my selfish seas, oceans
Receding, my sentinels retreating
And I am submitting to your endless grace

Breaking through the clouds
With the elegance of a plow
After winter when the wombats come out,
Shake their twitching snouts and find a way to live,

To thrive, to let this rhyme wander,
For I can no longer ponder
The form before the meaning
The storm before the lightning,

My chest is tightening, strapped to a jet-pack
And fuck the city I’m not coming back,
Human? Or consume and be done with the rest,
Surely this is not the best that we can do,

The point that we can prove:
That we’re not made of metal
That we beat and we bruise
And we’re not going to settle

For well-trodden paths with
Success charted on graphs,
And if I must leave my degree
To come and see, then so be it,

I’d rather roam than sit
Or Paris or Morocco
Or any and all of it,
Let’s pack our cosmic van and go,

And if we end up broke,
Choking on our indiscretions
‘Tis better to have lived in debt
Than by their moral lessons.

That cool stream caressing now,
Rolling off of my back and into my bowels;
The devil’s undressing, the rapids are rushing
As I am waiting for my earth to give way.

Bon Anniversaire

We take the last light minutes for ourselves

A canoe dipping and skimming across oil slick waters

A chorus line of fish leap into the air around us

And I wonder if we’ve forgotten the words to this love song

It’s eight o clock and there’s a bonfire on the shore mirroring a nectarine sky

My salt wet fingers cling loose to the paddle

And I let you push us out where the lake runs deep

The silence nestles around us and it’s been four years

Since that blistering afternoon where you wept to a crowd and we cut a tall snowy cake to symbolize a togetherness we have forgotten 

Darkness descends like smoke filling a room

We turn to see home lights glisten amongst the bluegums

Tranquility betrayed by a maelstrom within

Of tiny arms needing tinier sleeves 

An aviary of squawks and gummy smiles, pink cheeks relentlessly pressed against warm chests

How long has it been since it was just you and I?

Surrounding us, the piercing call of a thousand cicadas rises out of the quiet, one last encore before the encroaching night

I look back at you, water droplets clinging to your freckles and my hand stretches to brush your knee

You cease your solo efforts and we drift slow

Swallows swoop, a lone jellyfish like spun sugar is pulled along in our wake 

I murmur my dreams to you, a tremulous excitement like the ripples we cast out 

We nose the bank gently, the satin of a horse nuzzling for an apple 

Your lips brush my cheek as I stumble onto the grass 

There is love here for us still


Denim on denim
We dance our blues away.
Your ring doesn’t quite fit my finger
But we book the hotel anyway.

Your hair a mess from my nestling
Lace dripping down from the walls;
Tangerine skin on your eyelids
With cigarette breath in your pores.


Sweet potato skin-graft,
Busy hands, sinking raft;
Cherry seeds in passionfruit skin,
A dogtoothed lust in a charlatan grin.


Flint and tinder, smoke and cinder:
The love that burns between your fingers.
You rest your hand, tap once, tap twice;
My ashen moans amidst your vice.

All before 9pm on a Wednesday

The wind picked up handfuls of leaves and tossed them at us. Coloured piles gathering underneath the peeling white bleachers. Luca ran from flower bush to flower bush, disappearing inside the sprawling mass of pink and bees to return with short snapped lavender and daisies. I trudged up the stairs of the grandstand, walking sideways like a behemoth crab, my mountain of a stomach heaving before me. The last time I had stood here in these stands was probably five summers before, the night had been still and warm and we’d snuck out of my friend’s parents’ house to sprawl across the bench seats smoking weed. I didn’t tell them that it was my first time, and held the smoke back in my lungs until my head swilled, restraining any urge to cough. I had been desperate for any kind of out-of-body experience. I dug my hands into my skin-tight black denim and gazed at the stars as thick as sand. William laughed at me and then followed us home, all three of us squeezing under the thick duvet drinking champagne and spooning ice cream straight from the tub until we fell asleep. 

I feel the tightening under the tent of my checked dress and notice the stacks of bird shit sitting along the eaves where the night sky would have been. We throw handfuls of windtorn leaves and I try to ignore my body’s impending storm. The afternoon passes in muted shades, sun passing through the slats of the shutters and falling on a sleeping boy’s face, my arms heavy with his weight, cup after cup of bitter raspberry leaf tea, my stomach hardening like a boulder and sending my breath out in silent gasps. I hold myself in the shower and stare at this form both repellent and intriguing, more changed than I thought possible. Violet marks like thunderbolts across my skin, softness and ripples, flesh grown like mushrooms after the rain. The sky breaks open and waters spill out over the floorboards, taking me deep inside myself, as my body is flattened and tossed like a palm tree in a hurricane. Just as swiftly as it started, it’s over, three of us gasping and wildly holding onto one another, where there was only two before. The relief so immediate like the sun parting the velvet black clouds to end an afternoon deluge. Luca climbs in to join us, seemingly unsurprised to meet the purple little person who he just witnessed appearing at the bottom of a pool in a mess of blood and shit and every other fluid. We quiver, jordan holding me, holding luca, holding baby, all so full of this moment drenched in fairy light that stretches on beyond clocks and calendars and human memory. 

active 22m ago

Sixteen chain-messages in a row,
I might have overdone it this time.
How can I show that it’s no fun for me,
No easy crime; I feel so alone
And I can’t get to sleep

Until I know that I haven’t
Just shouted into some
Digital void, I’ve tried
To meditate and listen to Sufjan
But my mind is magnetized
To this stupid app, this endless tap
Of doubts and anxieties that I can’t
Seem to turn off.

I try to even out the load,
I have an unaware posse
Of hand-picked crisis comrades
To take on aspects of my own
Selfish weight, just enough
So they don’t feel cuffed to my ego,
This chain-gang of “mutual” sharing.

I need you but you’re in fucking France,
We do this careful dance
Around our ethically-sourced eggshells,
The ones that smell of family and economics
And the thing about me that you can’t
Quite put your finger on, at least not yet.
But you’ll find it, everybody does,
Like my self-pitying lines,
Lamenting this lack of agency
While I drown myself in a sea
Of my own making, and for what?

Where is your soothing voice,
Your hand in the back of my jeans,
The salted lips or
The breath on the back of my neck
That makes the hairs stand at attention?
You mention something about
The career optics of a working holiday visa,
And I swear I care, I really do, but
All I can think about is when
I’ll get to be the little spoon.

But that’s getting a little ahead of myself
now isn’t it?
Especially with the doubts you’re sharing
And Dylan’s Spanish Boots are blaring
And all of a sudden I’m lost now, alone,
And I don’t think you”ll ever really come home,
You’ll just prolong and prolong,
Those sad sweet love songs
Of what could have been
(It’s always easier to live in such scenes),
Meanwhile you cast off, rowing some new stream,
Sowing some new seed, I know
I’m dreaming, shrouded by jealousy,
But how far off am I really?
Are you in it for me or the aesthetic?
Sometimes I ask myself the same questions.

I know this is not your land and this is not your tongue,
I know you need a hand and I’m happy to lend you one,
Please know how proud I am of you,
This unending gratitude
For a journey I don’t think I myself could make,
A churning sea I can’t yet navigate,
And I know this lack of physicality
Is tearing you up daily and
Is tragically backed by this gap we feed
With our overbooked schedules and our
Romantic dreams of something explosive,
But it’s hard to light the fuse when you’re
Half a dozen cruises away if I left today,
And if I could stick a post stamp to my
Forehead, you know I’d be there in the morning,
Express delivery, right to your doorstep.

I wake up every day and look both sides
Just to make sure that these tides haven’t changed
That the universe hasn’t finally got this whole thing
Arranged, but no, not yet.

But I have to believe that one time I will
Rub my eyes and you won’t disappear
To consider any other option would be unfathomable,
And I can’t lose you, not again,
My lover and my friend,
Ma Cherie et ma femme,
I’ll hold you ’til the end
Of me or you or this heart’s thread,
And I know I better tread lightly,
I don’t want to tell lies or to spite me,
Because I’m terrified of your bright tees
(all the things I feel but cannot see),
Your sturdy knees while mine are knocking
On the door of a world I’m not sure I’m ready for,

Because I see a future in your eyes and I see you
Sitting by my side in a couple year’s time,
Drinking cheap wine, snuggled on
The couch, wondering if we’ll go out
To some social obligation or just stay in
And relive those first feelings, that first time
That we opened our eyes and
There you were, and there was I,
And the cosmos collided,
But we stayed silent, because to draw attention
Would pop this bubblegum perfection
So we just smiled and stayed there,
Had not a care, had nowhere to be,
Because I’d found the person sitting atop my tree
In those forever fields of strawberries sweet,
Our respective hearts caught inside
The other’s internal galaxies.


if god is, then god is mother

a father may love, but a father doesn’t pull from his own flesh

to give muscles and bones

a father doesn’t rend himself in two

doesn’t watch as a face, a neck, a body emerges from himself

see the skin formed from his cells

nourished by his body

learn to walk away from him


a mother is heavy

a heaviness that spans every generation of human history

the millions, the billions

more than stars in the night sky

how can I ever again walk alone?

with this creator’s weight, your life, your death

written in blood and amniotic fluid across my palms

in a few minutes of exquisite out-of-body body rupturing

I’ve crossed the chasm again into a blissful life sentence,

a halving of self,

a terrible knowing that every step for the remainder of my life

is taken in shoes filled with smooth grey stones


(this tactile agony smudged by shit beneath fingernails,

tiny macaroni digging into elbows,

unbrushed teeth, undrunk tea,

hair crusted with vomit

and half-eaten apples filling fruit bowls)

Forsaken, Me?

church door

A blunt ‘tween the teeth
I melt ‘tween the sheets
With several girls I’m yet to meet:
What a decade, what a leap.

Mummy look at me now!
As I pour my guts on some
Fresh sow, I know you wait
With a robe and a ring,
Forever unanswered ’cause
There’s no coming back,
Not from this bottomless
RumSpring- AH! The lick of
That kaleidoscopic desert!
Exile me into flames
For I have made my bread
From the stones of the flesh
And I have no strength left.

A new haircut and I bound
Like a mutt from the milk
And honey, lapping at these
Foolish delights, sticky paw
And slanted smiles,
The emancipation of
My inner child – How Wild!
And I will never regain
My inheritance, I know this
Well, and I know you see
My soul in the depths of–

I claw at my neck and I gnash
At this tender flesh, but
Can I ever tear off anything
Substantial? Let’s dance ’til
We shake off our genitals and
Meld into one, that cruel
Advancing sun that shines
On the lines that I’d rather not look,
I took your hand and I feigned a smile
Over this silent crisis, the prices of
A manufactured triumph
“You’ve done it! You’re Free!”
Please stop congratulating me.

You don’t think I find myself
Each morning, forcing
Some new meaning, anything
To last the day as I feel the decay
Of a soul that I don’t believe exists (?)
But, of course I do! What I hold as true
In my head and my heart are two
Different FUCKING galaxies!
An alien to my childhood,
I tear out the chapters and
Burn them in the flames of
Your knowing sigh, just please
Stay awhile, I promise to construct
My narrative to be carried with an
Extra dose of assurance for
Your agnostic circle-jerk!

I apologize, I’m not angry,
I’m just sick of the disguise
That I drape over my evolution,
A styrofoam allocution –
A common progressive theme, to
Fit within a political stream.
I wheel myself out with
My vaudeville mercy-kill,
My youth boiled down into
A punchline that I’m not sure
That I understand, but it always
Gets a laugh I guess, but
Please know that when I laugh along, I’m sobbing
Inside and I.. can’t.. find myself,
My real self. The one I hid
At the back of the shelf,

And I miss you.