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I wonder if there'll be a strike,
some bright peel, a tolling in the
distant valley that says
'it's over, go' - something to
herald when he first
to her and that thing
between us isn't

a pencil rub left from
the last time 'need' was said
in common tongue under
the ripe purse of the moon
(impress on them
the severity to
track the imprint,
right?)

notes on arson

so the silence broken
by blood drives and
flying embers, flung
far from you in snow

Kingslake is Dresden
bound, choked in
ash and super-heated,
(mid tea-party)
till all the Dolls warped

await another call
from the bonded
city , dialling M(e)
for reason

all I want to say, when
Melbourne's burning, is
how I shouldn't
but I do
still

I'm afraid for '94, that
we can't evacuate to
Grandma's stuffing
gutters with
slick newspaper

the fire's there alright,
last night it jumped
the river - quiet, fleeting
and landed somewhere south
of Southern St, and me.

bio

the danger with talking in I's and You's is
that you never know which You you're not