Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Comments overheard ...

... in the seaside hamlet of Hackneyed.

"At the end of the day, I'll put the bins out, watch a bit of teli and go to bed ... Yeah."

"When all's said and done, there won't be anything to do or talk about, I suppose. Oh, we could play scrabble. But oh, tsst, silly! No we couldn't coz that would've already been done. Boring!"

"When push comes to shove, release your hold and tell the rude man 'alright, so no more armed robberies!'"

Friday, October 10, 2008

Dreaming

Legend has it that in his younger days, and with a belly full of merlot, Piers Ackerman once plucked up for a round or two in Jimmy Sharman’s tent. Funny story. He raised his fists to his nose but was instantly stricken once his lumbering adversary began to move. The next five minutes were sheer vaudeville. Two grown men chasing each other round the ring; one grunting and kicking up dust, the other skipping and shrieking like a clown.

The pitiful Piers, short of breath, was eventually hounded out of the tent, the car park, then the town, when it became clear he was all mouth. Next stop Sydney, and a job with The Daily Telegraph!

Thursday, October 09, 2008

All you

Two tight fingers
Trying to hide the kernel
In a whorl
Your self already flown
Scattered or maybe
Eroding
This moment's coiled identity

Two pressed into one
Dead and no longer pushing
Deeper into the eye
Failing in their hunt for singularity
Failing in their slack retreat

Everything seems simple
When all you want is
All you get
Is all you