June 2010

  • i writing by numbers at hard tables handheld screened beyond sun birdsong ii Dead fire, dusty bin. Small girl with a bag of trash steps her red shirt song iii bird bird bird bird bird tree tree tree tree tree tree tree little girl in red iv Waiting for music, women carry old boxes. It’s… Read more

  • There’s a live radio version, with guitar, from 2008 (before I had vocal lessons!) in this interview. It’s midnight in Dream city again, with its dark derelict house-rows, dubious kitchens, tables for two, corner bars. Where are the friends I seek? Not in that bar—that’s all folk music. I drop off my mother there. You’ll… Read more

  • “permitted to fall” by Kevin Gillam Sunline Press, Perth, 2007 The cover pictures, perched-precarious, any sunfaded discrete defined housegarden factoryoffice. Inside, a precise fingertip voice speaks a view from Dullsville’s desks, parks, fences, beaches, from a man’s mind, from a son’s mind, speaking to sea, to sea moon God math Bach waiting for something to… Read more

  • Sacks

    The final Pope dies. The Vatican shuts its ghastly gates, drapes them with hessian sacks and faded graffiti. Old God-blood invades. Read more

  • So I will be your flaneur, yes, that’s what I will be, flanerie my technique of touching your Flanerie, not flattery. I will not paint—I will photograph your constructed your concreted skin your starred and lit / your banner camera hair your dirty ruined / your crumble and birdshit This angular flapper frame will walk… Read more

  • trucked

    dying dove, withered fern, skink disembowelled by a truck phonecall no letter no mouthpunched untoothed decapitated filed drilled trucked shrunk tossed aside wrinkle correction cream sample yes truck you Avon lady First published in The Broadkill Review Read more