Monday, January 31, 2011

Thursday, January 27, 2011

separate and consume.

Memories that are all stuck together like old jujubes in plastic boxes.
Now the yucky green one has gotten fused with the
yummy orange one, my favourite, but now one of six sides
of the orange one will be more green than all orange.

to boss me around

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The pineapple slacker

The rules, the roots in criss-cross boughs.
Give me my money back, this tin
is misshapen.
Don't make a fuss, your boughs are
Mine aren't, waiting's my only chance
for a flight out of here.
Newton forgot the Pine,
And I can't be blamed for it.

Chewy like mild wombat afternoons,
Chewy, like tinned carelessness,
Twenty roots criss-cross on yellow.
Boughs of sweet nothings
Tangled in a sour hug.

person, camera