This site contains a few pieces that use ‘swear’ words or relate to sex or other ‘adult themes’.
My writing
My writing that is published on this site, including lots of creative commons poetry.
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That man and I were standing on the street with a group of fellow artists watching a performance. I stood just in front of him. He put his hands on my shoulders, slid them down my arms, stroked my hands. I leaned back against him. He leaned against me. We didn’t say anything. He was… Read more
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Recently I saw a podiatrist. As she felt my feet she said, “Any plans for the weekend?” “I’m teaching poetry workshops,” I said. “Hanging out with friends, too, but mainly I’ll be working.” I didn’t explain that “hanging out with friends” meant going to Perth’s weekly poetry event Perth Poetry Club, which I instigated in… Read more
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I dreamed a gun like Dirty Harry’s, a Magnum, phallic silvercoloured barrel I dreamed a gun and a lock A lock on a blank room where I had to hide the gun A lock on a blank room with an ancient drawer full of other people’s junk where I had to hide the gun We… Read more
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I have to admit, U2 are not what they were. They are slower, less able to stretch and risk. They have a routine. They come out wrapped in layers of production. But they will always be my band. The love is like the eye light of a time-marked woman still looking at the grizzled man… Read more
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Mattie Furphy House June 2012 On the path below the verandah where I sit, discreet, discrete occasional clusters, twos, fives, pass. A man exercising an unpleasant dog. A woman striding fifteen feet behind him. She projects her clauses toward his shoulderblades: “As she said, y’can get away with buying cheap shoes, but then Whammo! it… Read more
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The face appears as if upon a screen. The image taunts me every night in bed. The Muse personified, a handsome man with lips that all the women ache to feed. “O will you be my Muse personified and let me touch your mystery with my pen?” I warble, when, inside my errant head, the… Read more
