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Poetry

The Wall

The sky in the frog’s eyes
is only as big as the mouth of the well

24 October 2018
Micro Village

dry chamomile grinds between my toes
passing the skin of a goat hung proud
air perfumed by fresh leeks
stirred in warm water by an ancestor’s hand

TO ALL THE GIRLS I’VE LOVED BEFORE

She of the dark hair
We’re writing secret notes to each other and sticking them on each other’s binders.
The teacher side-eyes us while commenting on how ‘lesbianism’ is bad.
I snort.

Two poems: pescivore and cavalier

a dead tongue refutes you
r claim to landed purity
with the pound of flesh
flush with the want of salt

annual general meeting

an ornament of openness
a decoration of dedication to change, at
the annual general meeting?

Suffering and Drowning

When the memories flood through her skin
like milk – when you pour it into porridge,
Her world melts.

11 September 2018
I have a crush on e-girls: 2am poetry about Melbourne

Listening to X only after he’s dead
Capitalising on vintage Woolworths’ plastic bags
Remixing washed out lo-fi vinyls from Savers

A Nihilistic Interpretation of Love

I took aim, and released.
Mushroom clouds snapped apart;
a wafer-thin crunch,
a child treading on dry leaves,
dust gliding aimlessly against light.

celestial bodies

she lies awake
legs spread wide
ready to birth a new star

The Monster Myth

There’s a monster I’ve heard of
over the years
that appears in the place of corporeal men.

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