typingspace

we saw derek making a cup of tea: ½ turn, ¼ turn, angel falls of sugar & the water blinked away. a chipped china absence & you’d guess the cup messed with the wrong glass (nightclub of suds). derek effected this beverage to then sit on a freezer & compost the adjunct images. caffeine still [...]

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from the purported LSD journal, Essai – Night trip: ‘Hey, mind, do that groovy spiral thing again.’   & if you really want to see your mind do that cool spirally thing (& who wouldn’t!), well, he’s pretty clear on what you should do (while at the same time archly aware that at least someone [...]

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apparently kinsella’s new anthology of aus poetry contains a number of typos. i guess that sort of thing happens?   .

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for n.curnow   like the bland hug at one’s depth of bed-storms, light glitches refigured to past teachers, creaming soda my factual solace, hay-bale dreams. you fancied her ponytail more than anything. sheet lightning levels above slessor & his cool happenstance fizzled. this afternoon we should reference the sheet-music that survives.   as i want [...]

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a sogginess about the edged housing these relevancies a cleansed approach rooms windows to otherness lazily inspecting dope plants pollocked with dew hazard the crisp yellow firmament of old news classified texture everyone gardens without enthusiasm planning mentally prove a point to the calendar networking like a cloud mores the generality of friends fixing water-spray [...]

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scooter my experimental garden-path see the light of day mauled by species of roach eight numerous exhumed tally at doors death but lacking of gleam go forth rubbered grips crack anyway paddle- pop stick limbs fused to the road your best friend of convenience bristled a jolt forces red hair he’s telling the big-side boys [...]

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rustles. names an impressionist carpet of tan shag, the extrovert an old cul-de-sac drive fenced knee-high. moribund as this secures a stingray shaped   sputum. ho, such sadness, it’s your tonsils hovering concrete from 3 bunks away. blind torque reveals those weltered fictions, vascular distance:   firm-friends & their apple-stance of boredom, politics, or gunning [...]

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Kenneth, sorry to have taken so long in getting back to you. I’ve been watching the neighbours so often recently I think they’ve noticed & are anticipating eyes at that shaft of fly-screen. The worrying thing being, I traded in my gun that time there was an armistice, remember? The vague wheelbarrow-fuck of history. I [...]

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