PenguinAttack

#21 I am, you are, we are Some songs stay in your heart, Beat sitting close under the sternum It lingers outrageously. I remember the Qantas ad, Long line of ...

#20 Am i likely to be cold? The cardigan is cotton bamboo blend In blue back, warm and breathing, On my skin it feels faux mink soft, The itchy rub ...

#19 Tomorrow my world changes (As it did yesterday and today) But I will see again a tired light My mind yearns for, Clinging still to a dream it never ...

#18 I press paper daisies, Grandmas favourite flowers, Watching their ends yellow and dry. In a handful or two I could find Her voice crackling down a phone line, Pale ...

#17 Deep in the bush the blossoms That bubbled and burst in fire Took flight and spread in the dark Smoke aftertaste of tragedy. Like dry riverbeds and flood plains ...

#16 The need to sleep settles inside my chest. Behind my eyelids aches with desperate closing and my mouth rakes dry inside a dream I live.

#15 I am transcendental I watch the two parts of me Traverse the known universe In seconds and moments and See there the shape of me rounding Saturn's rings like ...

Bonus: written with Hannah looking up the sky is gray and leaking, but so so far away it is blue. I watch the mountains form there, fists full of crushing ...

#14 Cacophany - the clatter of your arrival at the front door, keys and bag and the sound of your shoes on the new tile floor, Im Here, Welcome Home, ...

#13 ** Blessed are the Meek When you are young you think the world is yours. It lingers there, the knowledge of your own divinity like a quiet pressure between ...

#12 I am moving home again, the boxes packed and repacked as the chill sets into Autumn. We are glad the oppressive heat no longer sinks tooth and claw into ...

#11 I have nothing to say this day or the next said the poet to the novelist taking turns each week to whinge and whine and divulge the secrets of ...

#10 I wonder what the reader expects From me My poems are sometimes confessions And others are entirely fiction The thinnest of lines between, Always the tightrope of plausible deniability. ...

#9 I am work weary. My fingers have worn to the born, stubby nubs bleeding in their gloves. I feel constant with it, the need for moving forward and "getting ...

#8 I want to give my heart to someone But it is so heavy it drags on the floor And a momentary deadlift will not save it So i let ...