Tag Archives: woman



I want to own beautiful things.

A hardwood floor

to sprawl about in summer.

A needle

that peaks on vinyl

A rose

that animates the air

before it has been seen.


I want to reside as a dangling bra strap on your shoulder

My eyes to default to the furrowed creases between brow and bristles at your moment of O

My mouth to savour the bare breaths

when you part

my kimono.


I want every pen indentation

to arrest with intonation

that mornings lathering of soap

The groan you couldn’t help

And that era when my name

sounded like love.


I acquiesce

I don’t want

much else


Except perhaps

to see the lakes surface quivering above her privates

To feel

damp clumps of moss mat beneath my bare arse

And to curl

into cotton

And blossoms

as they drop

in the air.


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* if you ever need help, dial 000. Don’t be a victim for too long. Stand tall. It’s unfair but it’s not your stuff. Speak up. Say no. Call people out on their behaviour. With empathy , of course, know people hold within them their own darkness. But that darkness should never be inflicted on someone else. I urge everyone to sort out their own shit so we don’t inflict it on other people. 

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I wish I did not write about love. 

I wish I had not let them brand me. 

If I am on the market 

How will people know if this subject 

is the only way I’m in print?
I wish I did not write about nature

Specifically how it makes my ovaries blossom. 

If I am only fertile these few more years

All ready engraved in pollen 

How will anything other than sticky stamen penetrate? 
I wish I did not write about Venus. 

She gives away my distance, timing and rotation. 

If I am not pulled by internet routers 


Turned out from churning oceans

Pearl soaked

How will I find connection? 
I wish I did not write about you. 


who have folded language over in the mouth so it

Curses in hisses of spit and sputum. 

If I am to share saliva again

How can I turn my tongue over? 
I wish I had not written.

Pen and paper has given me away. 

Perhaps though in ink 

You could endorse this woman’s indentations. 

I am simply blotched 


Bleeding about the page like the rest of you. 
Press me to your adjoining pages 

I will etch in so you read me well. 

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Today she thought 

I miss being a girl. 
How many times these months

chants & championing 

The words 

woman & strong 

impregnated so as she might erupt

An Orphic egg

Spit out a new cosmos amongst the darkness


Create from the wound. 
She was sorry to let the universe down. 
But when she buckled up her own helmet before riding 

when she took her own hand to cross the road against the lights   

She shuffled her feet at the curb & breathed

‘All the women in me are tired. 

I miss being someone’s girl’. 

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I started with a cool 2 billion.

I was a ‘high roller’.

I lost 11,000 a month. 

I laid them out like bargaining chips for love. 

A Dr. told me I’d been a fool then asked for more of them: 

‘I’ll take 300 for 10 grand’. 

But even she couldn’t give me any guarantees. 

As a 37 year old woman I’m learning there is a price you pay for love. 

I went to do the maths in fact and found myself dropping cartons at Coles with every zero that racked up on my phone. 

The store cleaner looked at all the shells, yolk and white around me.

‘You’ll have to pay for those’ they said. 

‘I already have’ I replied. 

‘I started with a cool 2 billion’.

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Once upon a time in New Zeal-and…




My lips have been pinched by crisp New Zealand mists

And I long to be a seal bathing in voluminous vats of leathery seaweed

In an ocean that matches my heart in bitterness and storm.

The eagle whose eye is on me as I wind along the coast line

drifts with the same wind that curls my hair.

‘I’ve gone wild’ I say.

‘My travelling woman…’ he says.

‘Yes you have.


Yes you can’.

My Army of Me.

Calling moon.

Calling gargantua boulder.

Calling brittle pine

smooth pebble and feather find.

Calling padded barefoot wildling

Calling winter and spring

Calling surface of the sea from the abyss

mountain crevices and caves

sticky stamen and hungry bee.

Calling earths name- Mother, Sister –

Stand around me

Walk with me

Breathe with me

Dance with me.

(Army of me)

Unite with me.

I know no other that understands the sharpening of teeth and the flexing of claws

The whirling circular effervescence

The erratic yet.con.stant.beat.

The watershed, the eruption and the soft kneeling

The yesteryear

The now

And the hope for a better tomorrow.

I am sore and I am weary.

But I am also hungry

Feed me. My gut is desiring.

My legs,







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