a thousand frames a second

rising from a flutter to a hum. anticipation washed and wrung, moves to the spin cycle. i am backflipping through the garden. almost shaking as i hang out the washing.

piles of satin and chiffon. cacophany of colours. my sisters breath so close i can smell it on the winds that swirl round the ghost gums. i am holding back as much as i can manage. the bit is left behind.

a thousand frames a second. glass memories never age. these fragile things are fortified. i am swept up with the dust on the breeze.

gentle kicks

nervous system overstretched but the house is silent now. the walls breathe softly. measured pace. i am embraced by my own company.

the future rolls out like red carpet. dots itself along the hillside like spinifex. i am uncertain still but trusting. the relief kicks in.

when we speak the truth we answer our prayers. the value of integrity is unfathomable. despite distance and anxiety there is a paitence that settles the dust.

welcome back

peeled back and scrubbed by river sand. smoked until the only scent on my skin is ash. in the crystallised sky i streched myself until i snapped back into my soul.

it's been cold in the refridgerator. cuddling up with the leftover milk and ice cubes. anticipating every brief interval of light before the door is sealed shut again.

i'm defrosting.

with eyes that sparkled i felt myself return. i heard you whispher a welcome as i fell asleep. cheeks shining with the debris of tears i brushed away the last of the loathing.

floating up my spine and curling through my cheeks. my chest is open again.

you know this ones for you

selfish and in denial. like a salt and vinegar chip. twisted and obscene.

these passive aggressive playtimes. play hopscotch over daily duties. a palaced princess hovering. veiled and out of touch.

peek back beneath the curtain. pretender plastic smile. cutlets of abuse left frying on the concrete. outside.

raise yr eyebrows. run to a safe play. avoid any manifestation of the truth. hide yrself in a daily schedule. fuck you i'm boiling. don't touch me with yr apathetic appraisal. i want guts and truth and honest. i see yr routine is well honed.

splilt into the afternoon and you think i'm bullet proof. i'm loading guns and shining pistols. wear yr armour well when you get home.

softer

I trace the last of the day with my finger. smudge marks the horizon. every hue gets lost in transit. fades back into itself.

as muscles pull from skin, pull from bone and sinew and fat. i fall into that soft place. steady my landing catchin baloons on passing strings. we are much more silent now. i do not hold it. these fears and anger slip from tongue.

a curse is dropped in passing. i pull myself back from waving chicken bones. an archeitecture of possibility emerges from the skeleton. digging only reveals so much. brushing away to see the truth.

for the next act...

the corner sweeps around me and the path is not the same. i am chronicling big decisions in small books. keeping my hand writing neat and tight. these are delicate sweeps of ink and metal. controlled, considered, petite.

i am a stone fruit. my skin is easily bruised. the flesh melts on impact of thumb.

emerging from the cupboard. uncurl my spine and shelter eyes. my electronic life is buzzing. reality is static. the sheets are ablaze with electricity. i am replacing fuses everyday.

between cloud and rain

I have a cupboard full of unframed prints. Pictures I've forgotten to display. On days like these I peruse their beauty before returning them to their shelf. Hoarding treasures like an island. Making maps to plunder me by.

There is a beauty in the silence that hold solitude and lonliness in place. I am an astronaut. Isolated by perspective. The smell of rain is on the horizon but has not yet broken it's thirst. My teeth are cut on small goods. I am processing these things so they'll keep.

the momentum of stopping

i am behaving like a melodrama. my heart mimics book titles; The Unbearable Lightness of Being. A Heartbraking Work of Staggering Genuis. Love Like Water.

I am a cactus in a thunderstorm. I am exisitng in the moments between call and response. You can't hear me because I am imperceptible. I can't stop because the momentum would cause a crash in the main street of town.

when in headlights

ophiphanies rise like headlights on an empty road. bear down like road trains. like track trains. like scars in dirt and clay. i am knocked sideways. speechless. i am imitating the rabbits that stare down the largest of oncoming cars.

the wind blows hot and i am dancing on it. tapping on it with workboots and nailguns. i am rubbing metal against metal against timber and the sky. i am watching baloons catch on thermal breezes and wondering whether or not to fly.

waking up to thunderclouds

i am a sifter of sands. throwing out broken glass. collecting the bottle tops. i am preserving my memories. mixing in sugar to make them set.

the desert is flushed. red sands and grey skies cut in half by power surges. my ego needs the burn out. the smell of water is everywhere.

the rain imitates small feet. i plunge my toes into the residue. forget my lines when i need them. draw them again. this time in the mud.

shoestring

the heart is a precarious thing. it hangs on a shoestring. gets tied in knots.

i store mine in boxes. slide it between paperwork. slip it into the top cupboard with the other useful things.

there she blows

As the fire dropped into stone the steam curled it's way towards the stars. whiskey spilled into waiting gullet. fuses explode on impact.

it had been coming for days. weeks. months. a shaken can left in the sun. exploding before bedtime. reigniting at midnight with threats of violence and declarations of love.

my clothing is not all that is absent. hours spent at the ceiling trying to balance the books. i'm out of my depth here. i have no precedent to tell me if any of this is a good idea.

ocean in the sky

the weather was fare. set to consume. we soar on the thermal breezes and catch ourselves in the branches on the way down.

clarity is slow running water. i play with every faucet in the house. plunge fingers into fountains and splash my face repeatedly. consume litres of rain at a time.

this apprehension is flowing but i am unsure of the direction. set adrift but still sighting land. throwing my anchor at the sky to catch constellations. test the depth so i don't run aground.

soft days of fire

my skin resembles the ranges. flecks of red meld with brown. the melancholy lifts and the sky returns to rotational visions. the horizons spill into places that i can't see.

my eyes are naked. basked in sun. the sand falls through my hand. buried treasures are eroded. there are no shovels in sight.

my heart is an explosion without contraction. there is no fall out. no mushroom cloud. we light fires to experiment with matches. searching the ashes for a likeness of sorts.

redemption or something resembling

push the envelope and pass it across the table. wind myself into a knot until there is no choice but to tease out the details. figure it out by fucking it up. switch the camera from zoom to pan.

emerging from a week spent in stasis. as frozen lips thaw i remember the names of everyday objects. i am floating beyond the free fall. there is peace to be found in the tea shelf and the steady descent of the sun.

i am yet to articulate what this means but i can tell you what this means to me. i know this now: you save me. your breath is not wasted when it catches mine and transforms it into something that reminds me who i am.

these gestures are not small and they give me grace.

muse

faded. the last shades of a melancholy sunset. i'm riding caterpillers along the horizon. dissolve my self into the light as it hits the mulberry branches. exquisite in it's simplicity. drop off the end of conversations and into the evening as it stretches taught across the sky.

yet i am unmoved.

is this how everyone else lives? will i go the way of stockings and turn into tatters on legs? i don't want to sink like the twilight. imperceptible as i become obselete. i am a riddle remembered from childhood. chiming like doorbells. i am awaiting an opening to slip into something else.

fly in a jar

I'm seeking career advice from the landscape. Asking for descriptors from the sky. Trying to get some perspective on the situation by change my relationship with sea levels.

Last time these clouds appeared I was still romantic. Still stealing red dust into the office with me each day.Now I'm no concrete chicken but the possibility of permanance leaves me stiff and unable to dance.