Seventy-Six.

17/3/14

Izzy circle

izzy

after Ginsberg:

Australia I miss you, why won’t you call me back?
Australia answer the goddamn phone.
Australia don’t call me, don’t write, don’t wait up on skype.
I am sick and awake and I know you can hear me.
Australia I’ve got my arms crossed.
I’ve been frowning for a while now.
I don’t know how to look at you through the blazing white heat of your bullshit.
When will you stop bleaching your hair white?
When will you stop trying for a suntan?
When will you sing yourself into existence again?
When will you repair the soil?
When will you see the stories in the dust and ash?
Know it’s part of your history, but not your heritage.
Australia please stop shouting at me.
I can’t hear the sea any more.
Australia take off your clothes.
Australia you don’t look any good in a suit.
I liked you better in budgie smugglers.
It was easier to think you might be joking.
Australia just saying it doesn’t mean you mean it.
You have a wife.
You have three daughters.
Your sister is gay.
At some point your ancestors came to make a new life too.
At some point you forgot it was already someone else’s life.
Australia you’re not a decent human being by proxy.
When will you be kind?
When will you care about people other than yourself?
When will you be the paradise you promised?
Australia this autodidactic routine is getting old.
Australia last night I couldn’t sleep.
Me the somnambulist marching in March.
But far away from you and your false promises.
Australia take my hand.
Australia better yet take the hands of the people you ignore.
Australia take the millions of tiny hands reaching for you.
They all, we all, need you.
Australia I love you, but you’re terrifying me.

*

Sarah circle

sarah

I woke in the woods with my bare feet half-frozen
Came rocketing into consciousness mid-stride,
Swift from a dream of a hulking ship, creaking
And my feet sweeping salt across the sea-swollen deck.
And at the foot of a tree, at the mouth of the woods,
The hairs on the nape of my neck prickled up
And my sloshing and churning somnambulist’s brain
Pointed out to my ears that they could still hear the creaks
And as the shivering set in, and my heart took on water
I knew without looking what was hanging above

*

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