An update: more Notes to come

Here is a selection of pieces I've been working on lately. Notes 2 will be in production soon.

Enjoy.

Notes 2

Bits of blood are flaking off me

and I'm half falling apart.

Flashing lights -

it was beautiful.

I shed grief for the body in the road

and voyeuristically walked on by.

Flick through photos,

give me shocks.

White shoes on both of us.

My head feels cold like it is

dripping.

Remember the loveliness of late night.

Katie rolled down the driveway

and the wind inhaled our

unstoppable laughter.

A Wellington Sonnet

This is something a little different from my usual.

Its a ditty about the city I love and live it. I entered it into a sonnet competition - as a joke, mostly.

Obviously it didn't win, but I did get a lovely hand written note back from the judges telling me they liked it.

Untitled (Everybody in Wellington hates Wellington, but like hell they’ll ever leave)

Sometimes you smell like the sea at night
but you’d expect that living in a harbour.
Go! The Cuba Street drinking posse –
there's nothing like seeing the masses pants-down
in the afternoon.
Let the bus drivers go on strike again
I don’t care about standing in the rain.
The friendly cries of Boy Racer’s burnouts don’t keep me awake at night;
I live on the other side of the hill.
Yesterday I said ‘let’s go sit on the beach’
but the sand is hard and the wind slices me like death.
I get hungry in Newtown when the bread factory is in action
until the burned toast smell becomes a little bit suffocating.
Oh Wellington, you sly dog, you.

Excerpts from Notes

This is a selection of pieces from my first booklet of 'Notes'.

Enjoy them;

and if you would like a copy, just ask.

Notes, 1

Next door I can hear murmured shouts

and the clink of bottles rubbing together

on concrete.

Sighs form solid from

my nose and mouth.

Numb fingers and cheeks.

Let's have an incident by the photocopier

as the pages flow out,

bright light humming across the glass plate my

pigeon-hole empty as always.

My pigeon-hole is like an old nest that fell out of a tree.

They are like trinkets I want to touch and keep.

It is difficult to reconcile.