the army the belt the boots the brass the pips the khaki it is in my soul my heart my family the old one not the new watch tv think of...

addicted I am to the dopamine the likes the comments hits and shares and I know it try to slow it down a bit reduce the output cork the...

Mothers’ Day looms the gloom a million chrysanthemum blooms stand wetly in their buckets cellophane wrapped celebration of the womb my...

not my city anymore o, Melbourne gone the Biting Eye Catcher Thumping Tum Sebastian’s Bertie’s Southern Cross bar jazz haunts folk dives...

different toilets in the night no guiding light strange bed wrong height no morning tea no toast no shower up at an ungodly hour...

man stands naked on the platform muscular and hairy shiny taut ready for our eyes our charcoal and our rubbers man stands naked and...

saint’s day patron he of snakes and Guinness and green beer he’s as much my saint as snags on Sorry Day my man’s hey Jude champ of...

tracing the line of your lip I slip into love and loss and long to journey back to then the days we spent alone together welded at the...

the ball the ball the spinning ball will break your heart tear you apart it’s just a game they say it’s not it’s so much more than that...

the alphabet will save my life my mind my brain my sanity A B C D… there she goes H I J K… what was that name I felt a tiny click at M...

relentless summer creeps its weary pace across the yellow lawn past weedy clumps of yesterday’s fair shrubs and blooms too hot to tidy...

a day for women just the one wouldn’t want to give them big ideas make believe the job is done it’s not it’s barely begun bra-burners and...

the kaftan life spelled with a k does not change day to day night and day all okay in summer tis the easy way to drift and sway in...

The Age of Vulva is upon us (not the car, you idiot, the mons, the pubis, Mound of Venus) it is at us in our faces for all to see on...

obtusity (yes it is a word) inability incapacity to recognise hilarity identify comedy or maybe even wit you tit ‘tis tragedy friends can...

hours spent staring at a tiny green light in case there might be a message   hour spent focused on an envelope app in case there might be...

the man talks and you must of course listen them’s the rules he lives by knows no other way than this stern style of dissertation of...

red stains devil’s horns reborn in claret plonk no fancy moniker required you are mired in the juice and loving it til palpitations...

the aftermath is swift rushes in to fill the gap the airy floating space between the platform and the snow the springboard and the water...

we are gifted with crepe myrtle by the roadside growing free pink and purple frothy flora amongst garbage and the dumpsters and the...