Undividual Poet


October 2015

bad words

even love
bad words
in the hands of the most clever
with pedestals and no earth to be down to


for my aunty

when we think of gas
registering in many minds are typically the worst and best experiences of it
from the unpleasant expulsions from volcanoes and people
to the petroleum in our gas tanks and the helium that makes us talk like cartoons
we often remember how our stars and suns
and some of our planets
are gaseous
that it is the highest form of commonly accessed energy
my aunty Denise
as much as anyone else
was a gas
maybe difficult for some to digest
but would get you high
she was a star
a natural source of the basic dusts
connecting heavens to oceans
oceans to people
people to dreams
a hot mass of brilliance
right here on earth
relating to us at the highest common level

*in loving memory of my late aunt, whose fifty-fifth birthday passed two days ago*

dirty mirror

i didn’t know i was
until i touched you
you didn’t know you were still
until i held you
and told you to breathe
we had been looking at ourselves
through a dirty mirror
this whole time

the blue


beautifully starless
the overcast horizon
the muddy desert
the wet air
even the dusty wind was blue
so much prettier than the rich crystals
rolling on the whites of aboriginal peepers
so deeply hued
times and wars and emptinesses
all forgiven
washed and consumed in the blue
so hard against the mobile
and soft against the still
ever cool against the wrinkles and resilience
of old women finding refuge in the fight
peace in memories of affection

*inspired by scenery from the “Mad Max: Fury Road” movie*


my son is
the selfie of manhood
no filter
no crop
before damaged women
dirty money
before polity and kings

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