EARTH SCHOOL

you can pretend
not to hear
the messages
in the wind

there was whip in there

a push - a pull - a slap

discernment muscle on flex 


remembering the sweetness of excited breath

a set setting, watching branches blanch

opening up, to surrender

here to grow things


who taught you to seek

this great mystery

every person you meet, an introduction to yourself

perspectives previously unseen

the paths that lead you back 

the original juice


change doesn’t happen in a tidy arch




TOWARDS THE SUN

prolonged period of failure
what was it that met that intimacy in you
damage, singing in the dark together

how do we tilt the way towards love and away from fear
tossed against sudden storms
small, constipated communication
we got beaten. low. lit from within

what you wanted, was the worst thing for you
undercurrent of this story is defiance
a faucet on full all the time

the dance between being altered 
while maintaining a sense of integrity
the heart of all community, relationship
these marked moments
minds disturbed

STICKY BRAIDS

practised temptation, tripping 
ungovernable thoughts on a loop
couldn't have conjured it up better
complicated concentrate

you're woven of clearly spun thread
feasting on transient agitations
still i question
an appearance of, in the kinda rush we make 
have mercy if i hesitate

all i know came before, before this i was mine


audience

tried not to stare
or think too much about 
the timbred hues
you moved, in the air, 
around peoples bodies

and i was listening
i heard everything
bore space, enough for 
something to reside 

what this could be about...
Woolfgang Tillmans - Zero Gravity IV



STALE, MATE

the surface
where you drew me 
outlined, kohl'd, heavy 
weighted for you
waited only for what felt
like, what forever must be

crazy with an idea of 
normal interactions between
now normal just tastes like
something that maybe you'd once 
had a chance of at being 
ripe + so sweet, now's grainy and bruised 
and definitely, too touched 
and too used to

and then here, like in pace
our stomachs get tired
together, for-longing, for-giving
skin falling from their bones
falling over here and under where
we could talk and fight and fall and fuck
could study, inch by inch
for hours for days for weeks for months
as long as longing takes
a lifetime, i guess

i know, i know
there is no sanctity in this
never did have patience for chess
never would another have lasted
this second or third or fourth glass

and still, i wreck the sheets for you
turned in every direction
except, the one you were heading

confidently, i
know where we reside

Artwork by Ryan Tippery

LIVING.ROOM

all these bits i keep
lately, can't carry weight
don't cast shadows on, even, a broken frame
not-a-thing worth keeping
together

so i'll fix the hard-wear'd
punched nails & lifted screws
change the dirty filters
take snapshots of cloudy views

it's like it's something, but it's not
maybe, distracted in moments i've thought
that if i were a better person...

but here, abstractions don't make for
anything more 

than participation


shingo yoshida 'voyage to the centre of the earth'

SUMMER ON

(three hour slice)

legs crossed at creases, skin-on-skin 
deep in conversation
skinny pool between my thighs

exert a laboured, rhythmic force
through the city obstacled course
tickling lines lick my spine

up three storied flights
where day has cooked the air to ripe
bare, full glowed-up body shine

study clouds and reclined stems
wavy, dehydrated delirium 
air meets neck beads, shiver-blind

Robert Canali, Wake, 2011 (Archival Pigment Print)