Jackson

On the train, standing tall Black hair, soft spikes above, cleancut below Sunglasses Cleanshaven big-dick chin Black t-shirt, blue jeans, black suede shoes Old leather Quiksilver bag, lowslung like Dee Dee Ramone’s bass He doesn’t see me staring He gets off at Bassendean Damn Read more

In my secret garden there are vegetables with peculiar names, strange shapes and foreign heritage; twisted herbs whose leaves and buds are functional in particular situations; fruits that are an acquired taste; contorted bruise-coloured blooms. I love and love and love them all, talk to them, irrigate them, reconfigure their habitats, fertilise them, preserve their… Read more

She is small and full of glee, a laugh made of bone and bright fluff Her fur is soft, brown, long, spiked out not as punk but as puff When I come to her gate she dips and jumps and speaks with yaps and yips that shine in the air She runs to me and… Read more

Broken hearts rattle      like shell-shards in a      tobacco tin The shrieks of bayoneted babies The groans of beaten babies The call of babies      wailing for love The dead eyes of dissociated babies The silence of babies      whose hearts are broken In Uganda, where the warlords— In Afghanistan, where the soldiers— In Australia, where the preachers… Read more