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Michael Farrell


 

the black again

 

a lady closes her mouth to
shout bored with white & grey with puff
iness ascends to the penthouse
the steps acknowledge her front &
back its the influence of the
velvet underground she thinks gold
floods the teeth between her friends catch
phrases fear had become gene
tic shed too often been the so
ber passenger the survivor
behind the yellow tape time like
a circular saw loosens her

 

 

 

load cracks grow
together
we couldve
been sheep too
late unless
we fly back
our twins who
only smoke
in drag hes
excited
by the drive
the honkhonk
keep going theres nothing where you started a
string around your neck & foot you breathe
better manage your affection bet
ter pins than nothing pink with snow some
jump & lose their fear of guns an o
penmouthed meditation leads to my
stery some of the middleaged put
themselves out like plants to protect you
from philosophy a quiet rains
the torch shone in the face was your pass
port to motherhood that faded as
you lit a match
everyone was called
to account the gift
of laughter killed them
vibrating with
history & ore
the dead thing in the fridge needs no gifts
still theres probably a catalogue
go down as the earth spins
any ufos for
get hold onto my eyes
the frustrated air bleeds
coastal disappointments my
new theories racked with new
inconsistencies till i
tried it again in a
rage there was always more
& affected the kids
in my care then the man
agement got mixed up &
becoming professor
thinking i read somewhere
what softdrink did the clocks
run on the kids had fis
cal notions which helped kill
the dog or the aller
gy afflicted tortoise
which meant more rituals
in witches hats
running up ramps
bumping heads
& failing to
set anything
alight or find a partner
did it rain were we dressed it
was funny to feel again

 

______________________________________________________________

 




live from the broke tooth club

 


nothing can be verified



fell off & left him alone

blunt nasty likely to die from it




dumb bunny










inverts wash up here











just lift up this rock



knowing each well

devil or girl




couldnt afford the lights could they

 

______________________________________________________________

 



he thought of arcs



where to make a mark



face down rapidly calculating broke




one toe

a german saying











simply going up for love




then it seemed incredible









more a wish than fulfilment




to be students of the wilderness

 

______________________________________________________________

 



dearxenoph ile


part
nerorcalled
whatremoved
fromhuntin
______
esstoomuch
yesterday
biggreyones
sing



______

______


       ingact
______
nolongwhitebeard no
wandthewaytojokestocheckaudie ncetips
get cutsatfirst everythingstherephonewith
rescue date onlyhalfdumb withfear&proj
______
oh
auss
ie
how
rare

5 mid emptin
13
15
17 ing bad what
22 ects suppose careers improve before ruin

 

 

 

 

 


Michael Farrell is the Australia editor of slope (www.slope.org). His first book ode ode was recently published by Salt Publishing and is available at http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1876857536/saltpublishing. It includes poems from La Petite Zine, Lit, The Literary Review, Quarterly West, Salamander, slope, Tooth, Verse, and Volt..


 

 

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