Monthly Archives: December 2011

Like Amphitrite

Sea-born,
she emerges
from the ocean,
sunlight glistening
upon her salt-slicked
skin; a vision of
blinding radiance.

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Skin flower

I peel your skin
away, each piece
like the petal of
a rose, revealing
the new blush,
one step
closer to the heart
of you.

Four Canberra senryu

I.
This pool of refuse,
a man-made monstrosity:
Lake Burley Griffin.

II.
Spanish tourists ride
under four-wheeled canopies –
“Hello! How are you?”

III.
A jogger pounds by,
a heart attack in motion –
makes no sense to me.

IV.
The Carillon chimes
behind the drooping willows:
one ugly doorbell.

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Unliving, undead

So many movies & TV shows
about vampires and zombies:
we, the unliving,
entertained
by the undead.

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Remnants

All that remains of The Canberra Services Club, Manuka

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Corvus Rex

He takes on the sick,
the injured,
the half-dead,
pecking at their eyes
until their tears stop
and their ragged breathing
match their torn faces,
until at last they reluctantly
give up their flesh,
and their cries subside
into whimpers.

Comme si c’etait le derniere fois

You touch me
as if it was the last time
running your fingers
down my chest,
across my belly
and back up,
curling your fingers into
the hair above my heart.
You look up at me
from lowered eyes
and in that moment
capture what it means
to be loved.

The Alchemist

Here lies the Alchemist,
the tools of his craft
blunted and broken,
the crucible tarnished
and no longer singing,
though hints of the magic linger.

He relies on the old cloaks,
masks and verbal adornments
that in the past
have carefully hidden his malaise,
but they are now ill-fitting,
cracked and threadbare.

So he, re lies instantiated,
tests new formulae
to separate the precious
from the base,
and for each one that fails
his patron moves one step away.

And here lies the Alchemist,
ash in his hands.