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December 2016

Poetry
Summer
December 4, 2016 at 4:45 pm 0
 Summer   Overcast recollections Of a summer of freshly mown grass And northerly-blown Coota-bloody-mongrel wattle Plastic holly in the door frames, and the Dear Santas The slapdash glitter and template trees The smell of paint and powdered milk Children’s cheeks scrubbed raw, ripe hands offering Chubby legs stuck to plastic seats A Mutt of indistinct colour, and a stray Cat My diminutive childheart fell in love Their tongues clandestinely lolled over one another; Two tiny skulls competing for one bowl The cat’s stomach dragging across the floor An overripe water bomb impelling six greasy beans The dog dutifully cleaned the blood and placenta I have just seen the most beautiful sight! In a summer when you could see the Seven Sisters in the sky Overcast recollections Of interminable rain melting colours and smells To a sodden colourless confusion Shapeless and bleached Trees stripped and skeletal Autopsy fingers Green liquid injection given by the jaded vet Her eyes become glassy. The Cat’s given to God. Two kittens moonlighting face-down in the pool Couldn’t cry or swim. The dog, howling for its mate Found a weakness in the fence and escaped In a summer when the cicadas harmonised and the dewy grass soothed I saw the most beautiful sight.  
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Poetry
Outside
December 4, 2016 at 3:17 pm 0
A ribcage of twisted steel Flushed eyes, scarred palms It murmurs; I'll leave you to heal It lies; I shall do you no harm Bricks rise with the swarthy rain Bells toll as the sun skims and falls Breathe in time, seven eight nine Buildings spin as I stay deathly small Skip, trip through the soulless legs and faces Stare into the ground, I pretend to be blind Stinging weakness, flee as it chases! Siren's dead child that it begs me to find Murmurs are killed, a festival of silence My heart subsists from the tomb where it hides Madness sojourns, my eyes lock up the violence I know not to venture outside  
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Poetry
Fever
December 3, 2016 at 4:59 pm 0
Fever
  White, Sick, a stone’s throw across the pond From Midnight The click click click of the second hand batters the skull A fever crawls from the feet up, abandons the fingers Like Ice Silence, Hush, I can hear breathing Nothing Masterpiece movies/ static audio gash the silence We’re all fading fading, sketching. Dying In the forty squares of walled loneliness The eyes flicked open once the darkness churned out From the sun Across the horizon the sky is pitch The sallow moon has dust on it, clean the windows wretch The windows are filthy And when the sky is pink and purple The colour of joyful bruising The fever is forgotten, the eyelids Wilt as dead petals The body is still and the breath is deep And that hell-given loneliness Is finally consumed by sleep  
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