For the same man, Issac, over and over again.

Death by Chocolate (1999)

Your smile breaks on dark chocolate
‘Too sweet’ you say,
Laugh like an unmended child, quick- without irony
A foreign sound that resounds with blue mirth
of a palm oasis- which I gulp ceaselessly;
A ghost traveller faded by the spiritless sun
out of her element and without conviction.
A mime with empty palms to offer-
‘Teach me’ she likes to dissert.
But life slips past the chairs and beckons from outside
The Magi must travel with their weary enthusiasm for truth
In lands divined from my heart. Yours is a dwarf star.
Who no green parakeet need turn suits
Nor I the tracing of your palms
Since the light blazes out of you so soon.

Meeting.you.again (2003)

The third time is hell, baby
And I’m one of those psychedelic witches
I’ll steal your shoes so you never run away
My room is full of dead sounds in the night
And shoddy records sniffling and wailing
Rose to take a light to my books
But the scissors don’t work when I want to
cut out the sky out the apiece of window grill
>just that piece with the thin stars
And anyway I don’t know your address.

I know somebody oughto have turned your head
By now
But hey I’m just as lost
I think I ought to recognize the directions
All the goodlord distractions. by now
But hey baby, the third time is flambé
Remember déjà vu when you feel it.
You’ll be cooking the aperitif
And heaven, its all the same to you
And you’re one of those clock immortals that keep appearing
Figured I’ll better stick around
I’ll guess I’ll stick around longer.
I’ll wonder what alphabetic sneeze will come next.
These years pass too slowly.(2007)

Man, you are a child of sun
that I should see you after these years
crowned with glasses,
sweet as a page boy harvesting hymns
is fate serious faults.

Why should it be,
with time like a lake of fire between us
that I should see you from the mist
the star child clothed in ordinary rags
who waved to me,

The child in the man,
The man in the fire.

(be) Hilter like me

flying words like crimes against humanity
I wasnt female enough nor daughter enough
to resonate with the drab angry state
three symbolic icons of style: selfish selfish selfish
punched on my collarbone.
Let me live like a person
out there in the dawn beyond the stone
I would always have had it my way.
an angry god authored me and
who ignored this pit, this cubicle of
squabbling aimless formless humans.
so when the dye from our lives was boiled down
this were the three transgressions I had:
selfish, selfish, selfish

May'06

How would you know if you fell in love?
If you fell in love with the girl with the smile
the charming saleswoman with her pout
the naive schoolgirl with her wide-eyed look
the kohl-eyed lady with her brown eyes

if love was like a charm, you picked
from the wayside from the drain
the glittering rose of her tongue
like the taste of ashes
if you smoked your sadness like a veil
and to the women: you varied
come, step forward so I may see you.
so you may cruelly burn them for watching you.

Nov '05

I think I quite hate you.
but i'm not sure
as always
cause you make the world the worst
as it has ever been since
1983.

But yet you're the best
when you're a little weak
a little slow
cause you can see we're just
two beings thinking of
what to eat for breakfast.

A little drop of rain is as good as a mirror
On our Beatlesque trip in a yellow submersible,
I will like to sea things of terror, rainbow coloured flying fish
Knock the bells, ring the pipes,
your captain pulled off the wheel,
your first mate swillin' in the decks with flipper,
A purple sea monster bandies boxes of lucre
she has made a dozen holes in our sinking deck
and laughing water wouldn't let up spouting
but we will dance like two spotty starfish
while ole' glower glows like a blue tent

'cause you make me feel like pink sundae

Blue girl Black boy Everybody but them could see it Their faces like rain in Melbourne.

dynamite mice and the proactive soundtrack
(Marlene)

defusing the excreta from the post-modernist effusia
causing a sublime and unhealthy holocast glow
to settle over the bridges of bones and bunsen burners
Marlene sat, with ironic detachment,
on the face of the intellectual she loved most.

what a hoot it was
that she had eyes that were never used
but in mocking humans in kind when in kind they trespassed
upon her inert gaseous state
molding their own funny ricketed bones to the air.

what she must think with her budding smile,
Marlene thinking she was unperceived
as observed.

What a boy to play her by the book
judging her as alpha and betatical heresy
a mistress of her own periodic cube
lonely, justifiable, extraordinary Marlene
carrying tenderness like a crack
in that spectre of her light.

surrealist dream of my youth

i shall remember
the three like craven images onto stone
carving and burning images from the air
under the incense of bush fires.
or the night of staring at the vacuum in the sky
as the wind filled our ears with the souls of past
waiting the clock to write her birthday.
or the many days I watched like a filmmaker
my friends acting out their lives in my camera
smiling like I shall forever remember them.
or how my ear ached during from boiling air in theory classes
heads ministered, eyes wanton.
or his dream of me selling pork buns in class
the disturbing wordplay between us all.
or my image as the cruel person
or the betrayal as a stealer.

How they imagine me to be many things.
The dream and the film reconciled, I wept.
how other minds wrote the heart.
The conversations drinking beer at s11.
The face of the other like a bright lively film.
The face of another like a clammy dead animal.
conversations without meaning.
words that write deep into the soul
long after they end.
the kindness of strangers.

Feb 20 '05

Such a vulgarian

such a vulgarian- I know that.
my thoughts are so vulgar and crude,
no sense of taste, just a cheap shot at being,
knowing what beauty is.
perhaps I will transform some day
into a riffraff vulgarian,
one who slaps people in the knees
and explodes with laughter at meals.

and i will eat and eat,
forget my manners, laugh at prayers,
chicken, mudpies, samosas.
my friends tap me with their spoons
their enviable garbage friend who eats what she pleases
I will bulge as a whale plump and swimmingly
in the sea of discontent I reign free and happy
as a plankton.

Boys I have loved and who loved
come up to me
'ah, you're ugly,' they say
I smile my monsterous teeth and bite them in two.
I smile shiningly and kiss them on the head.
I tell them I am going to Tibet
through a medical miracle
I will suckle 300 children there,
a mother of rushdie proportions.

Sweet Shiva! They exclaim.
I am out of my mind, I am given to schizophrenia
they give me their cards to their specialists
Dr. V, Dr.D, Dr. S
My hugeness has made them kind and relieved,
I am jolly as a horse with bells on the street
they pat my hand with utmost pleasure,
I crush them like chocolate figures
into a bear hug, my monsterous dangs.

26dec04-

Black Tower

swollen green forests sieze the land,
we are divided from that course
through a chart of stone.
The woman is reminiscing.
"I was once in that green,
timorous orchids poked their eyes at me."
The sun is a pale piece of punctuation
clouds like the eighth day,
when rain fell in swathes fitfully.

The wind coursed their raincoats,
they flapped as we climbed the bell tower,
slap of sneakers squooshing
The man stared mutely with the patience of a mule.
John pointed the black edifice
swimming the lake of trees
We trooped down steps sullenly
The rain fired over our heads
The light spotted the undergrowth

Four people in green raincoats
merging in the green land
The paths fled before us like a sliver stream,
my hair weaves with fallen leaves.
A clearing with an abandoned shears,
rust-marked as lichen, teeth dulled by grass
A coarse straw hat half eaten by soil
embarasses the woman. She pretends not to see.
It is an animal's burrow, a tree stump for her.
The man dully listens to John's guide ramble
his ham forearms tighten on his chest.
The woman insists on climbing it,
John multiples her little everest-
saying,
"only one at a time."

But first, I climb and climb
The light flees under my shadows.
The ropes are still strong.
In a knot my hand lingers
their expectant weight on me-
I call, and limber down.
but-

Wind whips the flutes of black stone
its low timbre hollows-
me,
inside
out
I am white bird
torn from flight, awash in green
The spirit flees, it leapts
( )

wet grass heaved like a hand.
They all rushed by...
the rain after
those eyes lifted.

The hands flit like wings-
I looked at their flight.
drops
of
rain
in my eyes.
the woman wrinkles her mouth,
"Poor thing, you fell...!"

Out of the depths,
from the Tower of Sound.

28 Nov 2004

I saw a boy at bedok interchange that looked like you from the back. I had to follow him. But of course he couldn't walk like you. And when he turned around his head, I was relieved and disappointed all at once. I am a fool.

Four years a construct of steel-
-ugly in this city rose
The denizens sat
wings folded weeping visages
black mourning for another

Talk- like you were whole
The world like your snow globe
sugar angel's hair
& witch's mole
Your gift of gum

Four passes the taxi made
In the jungle of red lights
-I sat.
wearing Yorke's voice
spinning plates
paying rent to the aPARTment.

[ no.]

Your image like a shelling of lights
Kindled the ash in the cage kindled
[no. ]
Your broken eggshell face
Too fast, too light,
too resplendant.
Bypassed the alarms.
I had to suffocate my rapidly
frag-ment-ing heart
& run to lies. I had to. I had to.
I could not trust myself again.

2 o'clock the rain trickled down the knee of the land
The grandmother worn out and clockwork,
came in and tightened the bed.
3 o'clock he cried for a friend he never knew
Prayed a fancy prayer in a feckless way,
never understood the words well.
4 o'clock a shadow grew over the limbs of trees
little blackies sprouted at the eye corners
the head dragged onwards earth.

5 o'clock nobody lived.
the furniture scratched overhead.

6 o'clock the sun roasted the crows in their nests
They screamed at the heat
Ash and mist covered the the eyes
Mummified in the clothes of the sleepers he rose
and partook his soul with the bread in coffee.