Group poem — from 10th January 2013

(Language warning)

Group Poem

Lazy cider Sunday on

Another day

Melting onto the bitumen

Resolidifying as the doctor blusters in

Yo cranky drivers, striking

This summer arvo

Carving a space

From high headed bubbles

And the sharp annoying clinks

Of sweaty glasses

Zooming unbidden, skidding

Across drips

From our temples

Past the noise, past the list

Of places – yo want to kiss

To the moment where you find

That the tongs have been

Misplaced and left at

There is no tongs

Left in my lingerie draw

He fumbles like he fumbles

On grammer, on a bra without

The use of tongs

Picking, cleaving, wiping out

But then, I said, “where are we

Meant to be going?”

“Does it really matter?

If we don’t know

Where we want to be?”

The philosophical spell was shattered

By the broken glass

Caught in prophecy

A piecemeal fare

Each vegetable a different

Nuclear semen

Go fuck yourself with an atom

Bomb

Did you know they dropped

bombs in the Australian desert?

Like pebbles in the stream

But the banks don’t break

Until they do.

Except that pebbles in a stream

Is romantic

With an Ahhhh! (‘R’)

Native moments – when

You come

Upon me

From me

Back you go off off OFF

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