6:30 – 12:10 the next day (or, a punk prayer)


i can’t explain
i just wanted to cry
and you wanted a cigarette.
go then
that’s when tears started
it gave me shivers
my whole body moved
to riot
we laugh because they are funny.


later. the river looks so dark
and full.
leaping a little far into
from the rain
we talk about floods.
as the red light curls
with the gold
you’ve never seen it from this side.


only the water seems shiny
everything else has lost its luster
better when it wasn’t legal
better when it was free


i told you already that it was shit
i told you already that it was fine


once we’ve reached queen st
just on feet.
we close our eyes to the blaze
white light
right. this is a shopping mall
sliver woman with no vagina
advertises handbags
(i know cause i checked)
(you know cause i told you)
do the lights turn off?
do the manikins ever see the dark?
are they always bathed in white light
and does that make them angels
who is light like this for
at 3 in the morning.


at the last bar, they serve me
but you’re the only one complaining.
we drank Tanqueray when it wasn’t legal
we’ve got better tastes
i know.
i know.

6:30 – 12:10 the next day (or, a punk prayer)

Charlie (a place called not me)



i am in the business/of placement

(Charlie coughs as three soldiers walk by)

i ask them to make some valentine chocolates to sell on the frontline

they laugh:

then they stop/Charlie’s eyes fall a little bit/potted pansies yield themselves to the/   space   /

‘a place called not me’

:it is thusly referred to/because if flowers aren’t self aware/well they told me there would be no sun/Charlie bites down on lip/i stare


my eyes exactly horizontal/to the surface of my coffee/the bubbles puckering the surface/like

like an old photograph in a fire

two old ladies bitch about us quietly/sipping their coke zeros through straws/their kept stares never

ceasing…(not ever)


…well then…

Charlie took the sugar from the jar/and emptied it into his cheeks/holding it:


waiting for it to slowly dissolve

(Charlie’s eyes watered)/tongue twisting/the pansies yield further/into

‘a place called not me’



and then

(Charlie tries to become a planet)

turning a sugar filled head 360 degrees to the RIGHT!/and twists it straight off with a:


red billows like a sheet on the clothes line (like the ones i used to make houses with when i was)


and the old ladies chatter like/serves you right/and that’s when Charlie says to me:

this sugar tastes like cheep gold

and I’m still not a god help me

/i cast a cold stare down and say/

do you remember what I told you:

ghosts go to the sun and come back golden/that’s why all the houses in the hills at night/seem so fucking lonely

…during the day

they reside in the sugar jars of over priced cafés/and/

in the coke zeros of old ladies

and i can safely say/that YOU…………………………………………………………………are my most favourite kind of colour

…but i won’t put you back together…

i stood and the sky caved into Charlie’s head

(filling it with space

and empty blue)


…and i leached out the red

from charlie’s body

to make jam for my toast…

in the morning i could see Charlie rising

a ghost of gold and blue

to stare down exactly horizontal

to us

as i renamed it

‘a place called not me’

Charlie (a place called not me)