Unfortunate Clothes

Galloping with Gertrude

– Harry and Nicola

The cause of utility passed over his wardrobe. Not even intent. Pants, but falling. Constantly falling, a waterfall of pants, a cascade, a cataract of pants. Knocking at hell. The fall of pants. The snake. The fruit. The shame. The exile. The flight if only flight were possible. But whereto flee exiled from bliss with ankles bound by infernal pants. Flight eludes the hapless and one must sit, one most pause, one must wait for a more competent evil while the hapless one shuffles from the stage. So dies a sort of monster its torrid panting master slain, itself slain, its master slain. It is not even any particular length.

Brave New World

Harry and Nicola: If I were a bud

the sun rises to set the scene
I am spread out on the bed obscene
the fly screen’s busted
blood’s encrusted my foot
it took a shard from the dish
you hurled at me from several paces
missing and smashing against the wall

(the next one didn’t miss at all)

and though I still feel your warm embrace
when I dithered and wondered if I really needed the space
and your lip slowly curled
and your eyes slowly curdled
and you slipped from my grasp

(and looked at me like I’d murdered)

and though last night’s sounds
surround my bed, I wince
at the way I remember you said
when I went for my keys,
"Oh God fuck no please"

(queasy you looked, as you looked back at me)

I slide out of bed and limp to the bath
and pink swirls its lazy way to the drain
and okay, maybe that could have gone better
I find the dustpan to clean shards away

(and outside my window it’s starting to rain)

the man on the TV in emotional strains
while standing alone in a scene monotone
of bone dry black stumps says if only we’d known
says of the black summer, unprecedented
extraordinary loss, the country’s in pain

(but I can’t help but notice, the smoke’s blown away
and outside my window it’s starting to rain)

A Dog’s Life

the frappy ones with wings
are frighty scaredy fings
they quack and honk and jump the sky
when I come by they jump up high
they frap their wings and they retreat
and reave for me brown tasty treats


Wild Horses

Strange fruit

– Harry and Nicola

Lying around, we talked about our favourite songs
We watched one with kabuki masks spinning towards the screen
A woman sitting on a giant leaf eating a red powder
Powder on her fingers
Powder on her tongue

Lyrics like

Take the heat
I don’t trust
Those wild horses

It was about a father wanting his daughter to shoot her rapists
It changed key and I woke up weeping

Tea Cups

Focus on an object

– Harry and Nicola

what would Scandi TV detectives say
if they came to the house while we were away?

they’d wear trench coats and hardened faces
they’d measure the distance in detective paces
from the front door to your bags on the floor
they’d photograph the corridor

they’d note our tea cups nestled together
the doona imprints, the inclement weather,
the line of clothes to the bedroom door
where they’d photograph a little more

one would shoot the other a look
the other’d respond in kind
would he arch a single brow
or would it just be in his mind?

no murders here, they’d close their books
just two lovers by the looks


Shaye Loudon: Marmalade. Is how we see ourselves the same as others see us?

i’ll hide behind
my red gingham shawl
don’t find my rind
with your unkind mind

seal these lips
i’m not all jelly
don’t feel my peel
the bitter is real

Some Days We Wake as Gods

some days we wake as gods

muscular physique
mind eclipses
we float down streets
every dream is in reach

we saw your profile, your wet eyes, through a window
we stepped towards the door with certain mind to liberate you from your confused situation

Search Party

Nicole: Joining your own search party

that summer I lost a house and a car
but I kept a bed to hide in for a year

that summer I howled all night like a beast
or I danced all night frenetic and senseless

that summer I caught the bus to see you
and sat with you in the light all the way home

that summer all my friends became pictures
glowing images scrolling silently up

I suppose I did the same trick to them
and they looked around sadly asking themselves

where is he really?
we only have his photograph

but you know, I think they knew where I’d gone
that I had opened a tiny door, inside
and had followed myself through it

Five of Them

those women
you know the ones
who suck the marrow from your bones
who drain the life out of you
you know the ones, around here you see them
you could throw a stone and hit five of them
she said
and I laughed

Under Mountains

months of coldest stone and trouble
insects buzz in heads and struggle
retreating into bed defeated
fleeing into night time sheets

under mountains no clock ticks
but thickness thins and pain abates
in under mountain passage pass
arrive again to test our task

this morning ride in shining dawn
with horses drawn and standards flown
our enemies in no line can hold
and we are glad and warm and bold

Trash Future

lips touch and
you can read it in our glands
you can read it in our hands
like a sky full of stars or a beach full of sand

my mights and your maybes
we are mother fucking rich
but we’re fumbling with buttons
sorry baby we are damned


we poisoned our bodies and let them out for the night
from inside our temples we watched
rutting and writhing
who knew they could do that?
what force on earth or in heaven could stop them?
white knuckled and desperate
midnight pleas
screamed achingly into the invisible yard


even red rheumy eyes
or winter stones piled
even crow’s eulogies
are ephemeral energies
transubstantiated matter
on a voyage interstellar

even the branch from the poplar
fell on that man in the paper
the heft of it, three storms ago
broke his sternum, squished his toe
mostly empty, did he know?
energy compacted
starlight refracted
destination selected
pooled and collected

down down
light descended
from a random twinkling star
upon him bone and brick
as his throat grew thick
mostly empty, did he know?


Blue Angel Poets’ Dive: Touch

Just the vacuum cleaner now
Sits silent and alone
Kid’s echo in my mind
In this apartment that was mine

The balcony looks over slowly
Moving cars winking bright
The overexposed blue sky
The big tree dancing its goodbye

There where we laughed
And there where we fucked
This place was mine but it’s reverted
Vacuumed scrubbed and now deserted

Now it’s just full of air
Now it’s out by five o’clock
Now it’s calendars and keys
Now it’s emails and cleaner’s fees

Heat rises from the carpet
Climbs the stairs, invades the pipes
Raids the windows from the street
I smell appalling in this heat

Sweat pools in my arm pits
On my stomach, round my neck
My thighs stick together
In this stinking summer weather

I lean down at the sink
Suck water through salt cracked lips
’Til I cannot drink any more
It runs down me to the floor

I walk to the balcony door
To say my last goodbye
A breeze picks up and passes by
Summer smells and big tree pine

A million tiny hands of air
Place themselves upon my skin
Relief at last at the end of the day
Each hand peels a piece of me away