When all cruelty has been done to the homeless, the weak, and pri… being bused to their deaths, when every vulgar display of power has exhausted itself in fury,
Sometimes I ask myself, what is t… I ask why do I need it? What is i… I open a book, turn to the page th… and I see so many stick figure sol… who come in and make war on anythi…
Would I be handsome in baggy red… and red and blue makeup? Would I be more, if I were to be… except for the blowing of a horn? Would I be understood better usin…
The air around him was welcoming, his words like quiet music pulled me in, relaxed me, hugged m… He claimed my eyes with his own, wouldn’t let them go, I’m sure he…
We are running out of breath in th… to avoid our fate, avoid ourselves… make a new fate, make ourselves an… We are at the beachhead and the wa… are boiling in like playful, malic…
On this day I would observe a min… I would celebrate and mourn in tha… the many who have died in and for… green island, for her survival, ba… at times, and in some places more…
The almost silent Hog is fully si… The last smile has left off dancing across the great man’s fac… Time as stopped, the clocks will ring the hour of 1:10 this da…
My cardboard sign carves out a tiny piece of footpath to call h… My cardboard sign shamefully decla… “homeless” and I look down a t my… as you stride past, reading but no…
When my imagination moves off it seems incredible, astounding, like a church that walks away, a holy place that plays hide-n-see… a blank canvas with a paint resist…
The most remarkable thing is the s… It’s early, but except for a few c… making mandatory trips to gather a… the silence is almost complete, as if we’re all meditating on the…
I said nothing when the trees were… then uprooted, and replaced with a… I said nothing when the birds took… and disappeared and koalas starved… I said nothing, hardly noticed, wh…
After the years of that and that and Goddamn bloody well that, he rose again. His skeletal frame and sparse hair
The Valley of the Shadow of Deat… travels through the streets of my… bringing in with it the refugees, the sinners and saints of flotsam. It’s filled with meth heads and ju…
Mobilised from Puckapunyal one su… The walking dead and maimed do not… In sharp lines of saluting slouch… Just march away clean chinned and… No thoughts here of smokes hanging…
I’d like to write a poem that’s a swimming pool, or even a wading pool would do. I’d have the sun shine on the firs… and Spring overwhelm the stanza.
