Friday
plum or mustard straight-legged, vans, t shirt and jumper come hoodie, or perhaps a shirt. The eastern suburban teenage boy. Neither groomed or preening, more nonchalantly deliberate. as I cycled to...
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lyrebirds, crimson rosellas, king parrots, white eared honey eaters, swamp wallaby. Cascades of brookling water, laughing girls and easy banter. mountain ash, cold wet damp limpid moss and epiphyte...
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sliding toward a slew of ready easy indolent excuses, hidden as reasons, to not ride. Rain, broken door, reading, time, change room locked, security guards, birthday present shopping. the list of...
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he invented reasons not to ride for six weeks so a bellicose three kilograms made its unwelcome way like a slivered splinter under your fingernail. One morning, unexpecedtly in a cupboard, he found...
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sharp small hail, sniping two degree rain, sodden booties cold feet colder hands in wet gloves. Ninety minute commute was getting a little epic. age or slow learning? Realising Fridays are best left...
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the writing had followed its course to the point where he no longer knew what it was about the room smelled of vomit, or the margarine warm odour of bad microwave popcorn. He couldn’t tell. it is...
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Solomon Burke imagine deeds, make list, begin a desked day. Tick, cross, underscore. anger confuses scares frightens me. Not the anger of anger, its thickness floods toward me as viscous as molasses...
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thank you dropbox dot com conclusions are abrupt peremptory contrived that time near when you need to leave for the airport is an odd non time of slow hurry
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all the bins have gone from a city station when was the last time you read a humanities essay or book that concluded with the realisation that its hypothesis was wrong? I don’t know if it is a braid...
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male cyclists, at least those committed enough to shave, measure each other by legs and bikes. I saw my leg reflected in the window as I cycled this morning. The light casting my left calf in splendid...
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gaggle teenage boys peacocking private school livery sitting behind me. Cricket season has started. turning toward a window does not make your mobile phone conversation intimate. Not seeing us does...
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he files his nails with grim determination. Passengers maintain a quarantined distance as the blue emory board sprinkles abject flakes across bag lap floor. it was the noise. Perhaps a punch? A smack?...
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arrow straight burnt orange by a rising sun, this cardinal trail of the jet decorates my sky the proposition lay there, languid. A solipism dressed up as a provocation he dropped dense heavy kernels...
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lyrebirds, crimson rosellas, king parrots, white eared honey eaters, swamp wallaby. Cascades of brookling water, laughing girls and easy banter. mountain ash, cold wet damp limpid moss and epiphyte...
View ArticleFriday
sliding toward a slew of ready easy indolent excuses, hidden as reasons, to not ride. Rain, broken door, reading, time, change room locked, security guards, birthday present shopping. the list of...
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