a splay of spectra

across his body

nimble in the kitchen

and now wreathed in smoke

the tired superlatives come to rest on a wrinkled nose


I should find another poet to corral exhaustion

and squeeze glamour from it

New Year’s morning the pixellated pen is dry

and wrung out in suburbia


we are making hereness


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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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