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)