In the morning the sun is blue Cold it’s early summer No one cares The cream sand has waited The whole of July A bad part of August Come it’s time Let’s dig Exit tunnels For hybernating beach towels.
Category Archives: English
indonesian chicken ay
clean spring onions remove dirt more dirt the better the fresher the stalks will be slimy remove skin that looks dead worry not about the slime take the chicken out of the fridge flesh will be cold chicken grosses me out put on a plate sprinkle with one teaspoon salt one teaspoon freshly ground blackContinue reading “indonesian chicken ay”
index to first lines of the penguin book of modern american verse, selected with an introduction and notes by geoffrey moore, h-m
here lies a lady of beauty and high degree here where the wind is always north-north-east he stroked the cats on account of a specific cause i am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation i do not know much about gods i hate my verses, every line, everyContinue reading “index to first lines of the penguin book of modern american verse, selected with an introduction and notes by geoffrey moore, h-m”
redwing
i don’t remember what we did between dinner and sleep. sometimes your mum would cook dinner sometimes i did. onion, garlic, courgette, eggplant, bits of what’s left of the meat. spices. sometimes italian most of the times indian. seeing the huge big red kangaroos made me feel there is a god somewhere in this world.Continue reading “redwing”
anti-matter
not that it matters, but i want to know who did the bad bad georgia brown tattoo on the back of your neck and the sickly montmarte whore in a top hat on the small of your back not that it matters, but the bajaj was painted aubergine purple yesterday and your skirt got stuckContinue reading “anti-matter”
Bondi*
The muck of the sea, liquid rust on the crest of the waves. Coke bottles, lighters, Havaianas, a set of house keys on a BMW key ring. *a rewrite of ‘Bondi’, from my first book We Are Nowhere And It’s Wow
paring
it’s a matter of paring. paring down yr thoughts to the most relevant at hand. paring down yr feelings to the least hype-y. paring down yr life to the most essential tasks. gusti allah paringono sabar.
bacin
i miss those days when i thought i sucked at everything i had no friend. there seemed to be no way out of that kind of depression. then i’d go for a walk. or a ride on my specialized bike (RIP :(). and nothing would change. i’ll read a book. the ordeal of gilbert pinfold.Continue reading “bacin”
sun (((o)))
i miss riding my vespa into the sun pretty pillions riding shotgun i miss the silky heat of the sun the bicycle track around the artificial lake i miss drag-racing the sun the diesel clouds on the horizon i miss inventing the sun in dark, cloudless days
Divagyrations 