how it went down (version 2)

1 year 9 months in - there's a knock on
the phone, an arching maybe
spanning a week and weekend -
what is that?
they'll know, the ones, the white-suit
slick-blade scalpel crew
you, the you, deep down from
14, from 12 from times before South
Australia, say 'run' - the you, that
loving you, the now, the always you
says 'stay'
and you do, through 4 year, 5 year
nearly and so
in stitching our canvas to the
ebb of my intentions
a little piece, lost in the
filtered red-water lake (it's tea-tree
you tell me, and I, I don't believe) a little
piece of you goes missing,
that's the way I don't see, they took it
I took it - and didn't see you
ragged and hemmed with the 'run, run'
pounding through your head
and me, smashing glasses (it's just a crack)
and muttering like my father at
televisions, the world and all
the promises of high-school captains
and kings of men,
didn't see the stitching
or you, crouched, hungry
trying to suture
us, again, without me
I'm sorry

how it went down v1

I think it's July 16 when you sit me down, say
you feel, that you
can't make you anymore, say
sorry as you take back
the mystery flight and the sole condolence
tear up the Absolut posters, the nightmare before.
I think it's Sunday when I say 'this
isn't working' and you
you know i know you
never meant it to, want to want not quite
there right
so it's still
not cool love that i've a need to fill, say
sarcasm to imagine gone
and you you backing down the drive
all the time whisperin 'I do, I do'

satellites

all that really matters to me
as I hit the atmosphere
calling myself a rocket
is that somewhere
that smile, so beguiling -
rests carefully on a face
I've not see for a year

oh sure, the digital
anomalies that pass for
our passings these days
make sure we feel, connected
to the indelicate web of
parched lives, nineties
and whole

I've waited so long for
someone to take me back home
now that that might be (you)
I think it's the big...
well...apple...you see
so why can't I say that in
person, tomorrow

and forget the consequences, live
in the leap ahead as you push
I push the steep, the rough, the
impossible off the scales and out into
space, floating away
where I can hang, with you

and watch the earth spin

Dear Frank...

if you come here, leave me crumbs
so I
can follow you back from
the edge of the rut that runs
through my bedroom, over
the burn mark near the lamp and
under the box
you forgot to
return to the apartment
we shared with a cat named
Leia.

geo

I want to fuck a
geographer. I want
her to know my
watersheds and key
indicators, is it salty
or fresh. You know
the riverkeeper
analysis? that's
what I'm doing, you
know her? Every
single swampland,
every single flat.
There's technique
run off in the data
but I don't like
programming. If
you've a little
knowledge of
ecology you'll ask
what about all this -
you're trying to
get the restoration
work on the wrong
wetland. But he's
not someone who
helps, too alluvial,
too prone to
flooding on the
higher reaches,
igneous and shale-faced.