https://soundcloud.com/user460194194/dysmorph-depleted-body

Cross-Pollinated.

I let you whisper in my ear when we’re out

And I smile conspiratorially.

Together we are untouchable.

My heart rattles the beat of us

In the sun in the car

With the beach and

Our music speeding toward a house full

Of towels and sundresses

We smell of sunblock

And my sunberry skin

I, slicked with salt, I

And a spattering of sand

With sunned in strap marks

On my neck.

You peel away my

Still damp bikini top

 To see my tiny cold nipple

And warm it with your mouth

Everything is there

My whole world is inside your

Warm mouth.

As the sun sinks our

 Sunburn ascends with

Prickle warmth, itchy

And memory laden

I haven’t been burnt

Since childhood

It is a good pain

I slip between cold sheets

And we lock legs

You palm my belly

My body arches and we slide into a knot

That reaches all the places

And we knotted find

Our own rhythm

The back and forward of love, of lust of

Pleasure of need

And we gently increase

Our speed our muscles harden

I notice a bead of sweat

On your brow

And I think about

Licking it off

I let you quicken

I feel you fatten and plump

You open your mouth and your

Cry coils into mine

What is this moment?

This coming of us?

How loud and unabashed

We are never more vulnerable

Or more beautiful than

When locked in fleeting ecstasy.

My skin is perfumed with you

I have scented your hands

We have cross-pollinated

And we lay

Basking in that

Ancient ache

Dropping into a satisfying

Exhaustion.

On Looming Gentrification.

How many deaths
Do you die in a week?

Little deaths like diamonds
Or rare artworks of
Intricate paper

Popping brain cell deaths
Bubble wrapping snaps
With each sip of wine

Balloon deflating slow deaths
From a cadaverous glare
By a disingenuous boss

The sound of the present
Dying as it groans
Into my past

The death of hope
The death of youth
the death of faith

But a little metaphysic
Tickle in my noggin
A jostle of my medulla

At the base of my brain
A primal tickle
All twee and shy

The tickle of hope
In the pit of
Pandora's box

What is growing there
New life laid bare
By a burning ego

How many lives
Do you live in a week?

Coburg Demolition Site.

This, my derelict
Crumpled mess
Concrete cancer
Memory steeped.

My glistening youth
Hecticly spent
Dog-eared teen novels
Sticky taped punk
Singer's
Dials faded

A girl's room

Watch closely as I
Emerge from the walls
Can you smell me?
Taste my presence
Alighting on your tongue?

Somewhere still behind
The paint, in a crack
Along an architectural
Fault-line
Lies my dusty skin.

This place contains my DNA
Now it contains yours
Rub your hands together
Scratch your head
Lose an eyelash

And your story remains
With mine,
Entwined.

Offspring.

I hope my children never feel ‘entitled’

The world owes you shit, child

So make good shit happen.

Walk away fast from small minds

Embrace the magnanimous

Say yes when you can

Yes when it will move you forward

Toward the light

Seek the intelligence underneath

The formal education

Look at the heart.

Never stand in judgment

Or think you’re better

Choose the kind option

This may not make you a CEO

These things may not let you

Climb the corporate ladder

But it is you who will inherit

The beacon of happiness

You will glow and inspire and

Think radically without fear

Without harm

And I will be proud of you then,
As I am now
And always will be.

On Noble Pregnancy.

A birth story of the combined births of our four children. 

These are my memories

You are as kind to me

As the taste of a lollypop

My heavy belly drags my soul

 To the dropping ground

And you fold your arms under and lighten me up

So it’s just my body, just my body as

 You hold our child, still

In my belly, in your arms

And relieve me of my load momentarily

A human belly harness swing

You and water can make this happen

Weightless bobbing mimosa bliss

Now my center of weight has shifted

And I stumble when I try to be nimble and seek

To hold solid

As I accustom myself to my front bubble blossoming

I’m reacquainted with my elegance and presence of being

My hair is thick and my skin is plump

I am beautiful and magnificent

A beacon and the world sees it

I belong to you belong to me in our obvious

Coitus back-projection:

‘I know what you two have been doing’-ness

Right now I want to be owned by and linked to you

Like an ape. I want to stay close to your scent

My body understands this even when I don’t

Increasing mammalian underscoring in my actions

Right up until go time I am still ego driven ultimately

In control. But that drops away incrementally

As the Braxton Hicks morph into the real McCoy

Everything is ocean, waves, liquid

Waves of pain, waves of consciousness

Interspersed with waves of self affirmations

Waves of your voice

Do those noises come from me? In waves.

I observe the irresistible, wonderful animal

Urge to push, it is orgasmic and enticing

And I’m not allowed to do it.

The wave of words from the attendees:

“stop pushing right now”

My animal self says:

“I have to push; you must let me push”

I want that orgasm I want that satisfaction

There is no other thing my body must do

Right now, but push.

Drag my superego kicking and screaming back to the

Forefront of my consciousness and abstain

From that sweet push

Gulping in breathy waves

Side coaching ape husband smelling beautiful

Pheromones like channel
No. 5

Acknowledging me and my hard work

Waves of gratitude to my partner in crime

“I love you,” I say

“push” I’m told by the other attending ape

Sweet mother of Christ I push

Waves of push, painful focused pushing

Waves of human descending, flowing

Out of me. This is somebody's normal

Somebody's job, somebody's everyday

This miraculous normality.

Our baby arrives in three waves,

Surfing on the saline, hanging ten

My arms, my face salty

I hold beauty; crumpled, delicate beauty

Then some bustle

Quickly making the bed of decorum

Tucking in the tendrils of primitive

And overlaying my bedspread of ego

Neatly arranged as the nurses clean away the

Evidence of fluid, saline primordial soup

A little spritz of essential oils in the room

And we the suburban family

Sit up and smile. 

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will be nicer. 
I will say the nice things. 
I will see you, really see you. 
I will do the stuff that bores me so I can please you. 
I will smile and hold your hand, 
even though I want to swing my arms freely in the breeze. 

Tomorrow we will sit under a tree, 
in the sun, and scoff cake and imbibe sticky drinks. 
And I will admire the sun in your hair; 
your curls so golden and soft. 

Tomorrow I will understand 
that tomorrow needs to be Exquisite. 
Needs to be today.