On The Kiss of Wind

  On the Kiss of Wind I’m walking the length of the platform listening to Einaudi air fat with tourists each step honey slow I’m playing the high part on my right hand heels calacking looking down into the darkness for that sweet kiss of wind gentle mothers breath a droplet forming slick tongued and lanky… Continue reading On The Kiss of Wind



Ghosts Tonight: Look, running towards me comes Maddy and all her though I am repeating myself nightmare hair. But when she passes she is Notmaddy I am blind at a distance but capable of great insights. There’s something of her unbearable ballerina footfalls jogging ghosts dancing in my skull. And there at the bus stop… Continue reading Ghosts


In Which I Am Angry At Myself At 2am

In Which I Am Angry At Myself At 2am for promising myself I wouldn’t let anyone in convincing myself I was strong enough to break hearts to build walls around parts of my own bare faced lies in a mirror same old childish sighs believing that I was not soft nor gentle and placid not malleable,… Continue reading In Which I Am Angry At Myself At 2am


I Will Write An Ode To Her Tight Jeans

I Will Write an Ode to Her Tight Jeans This is an artists sketch, surely all perfect lines this is millimetre thin against your skin, exquisite this is fine sculpted stone marble sharp, this is a denim tight curve alighting. This is my poem to your arse in those jeans, this is art for the… Continue reading I Will Write An Ode To Her Tight Jeans


Digger VE/6136

Digger VE/6136 ‘E’s an ‘andsome bloke, is ol’ mate Luke, wiv ‘is peelin’ sunburnt nose, ‘e’s six-foot-two, frum Humpty Doo, an’ farmin’s all ‘e knows– but when the call fer arms went round, the cobber showed ‘is colours, an’ now ‘e’s ‘ere on forrin ground, wiv ‘is fellow bushwhacked brothers. ‘E’s ‘andy with a bayonet,… Continue reading Digger VE/6136


Cirrus Dancing

Cirrus Dancing Start with the corners. The half minutes. The awkward bumps. Blue for the sky, and white lace breezing from walls like poetry waxed smooth. Here, the puzzled pieces of your ankle braille under baked digits. Pull this apart, deconstruct, an eventime light lifting your eyes- line scanners, them and words words pulling back down filling… Continue reading Cirrus Dancing


Creation Myths

Creation Myths  ‘On the 12th day God created Me in his image which is to say Godlike completely made up a right bastard. And it was good.’ I am more than the sum of my parts I am an impossible fraction of all my past broken hearts- a tyre on ice gaining traction. The net yield… Continue reading Creation Myths


The Island

The Island Take me back half a decade to the streets of Sydney and autumn sun on the leaves of Centennial Park with Colin Meloy in my ears telling me it'll be alright in that love hate drawl while I love hate the girl that forced me there alone to walk the streets of Sydney… Continue reading The Island



  Untitled You are jumping to conclusions I am falling into line You are driving fast at answers I am leaning on you hard We are terrified of freezing, To stop swimming is to drown So the muscles keep on pummelling The skin into the ground- You are worried you're replaceable I'm scared that you are… Continue reading Untitled

Poetry, Unmasked

Unmasked- Part V

Origin Story In which reality is blurred, we go back to the beginning to discover how it all began, sleep the sleep of the dead and get awkwardly personal. There is a momenta singular occasionone infinitesimal point in timejust before my eyelids closejust before sleep takes mebetween my conscious thoughtsand nightly dreamsof youwhen you become… Continue reading Unmasked- Part V