Is this a Cube or an Antenna?

She’s a lovely girl of course! We speak about the stars and she laughs a lot, around me at least, doesn’t fancy crowds too much but she’ll grow out of her nerves.

I don’t think other people know so little about their best friends, but we have similar tastes in things, I think. Gawd I’m not even sure about that!

[Sleeping on the couch]

She’s a million different things, not one I know, and that’s how my friends describe me. We are intimate anomalies and I love that about us. She’s been through so much, more than any one I know but here she is, living on and blessing me with her beingness. She’s my precious!

Hard worker, first to work, last out. Needs help with her temper, always getting into fights, but she’ll grow out of it.

She’s a bit too easy with the boys.

Say that name again?

2nd Bestie:
She and I are soul mates. Bonded by something everybody else struggles to comprehend. I remember she pulled my tooth out once with pliers. That person she’s dating currently is a digital apparition, I don’t want to date her, I want us to grow old together. Once I’m out of here.


Dancing in the mud

Mother sat on the beach stool out front
Watched the cars and baked in the sun
I always snuk out back like a cat
Payed HER a visit
She lived behind a locksmith shop where her father worked
Right next to a tall mountain; almost like a wall reaching for the sun
We talked ’bout all sorts of stuff.
These violet orbs hung over her head like discarded halos running out of power.
It makes my kidneys sore thinking ’bout them days.
I’ll just get on with feeding the rhinos and take my daily hike now.

Two malicious bullets ripped through the glorious Sun one evening

The police van parked next to the hopeless crime scene.

Two officers exited; one of them grew up next door.

She had a face that projected duty; everyone was quiet.

They put on gloves, pointed and wrote notes; time hovered.

She addressed me; “The gun?”
I stuttered; shaking my head.

After writing down more notes; the officers lit the scene.

They watched it burn for a few minutes; then left.

The flame would burn for generations. Engulfing our little town.

There’s Only Girls In The Family

The lady selling blankets was a mystery to us all.

My betting Cousin said she looked older than our grandmother.
I said grandma was the oldest person in the world.
She said “not anymore, that lady has sixty-years over grandma.”

The lady cycled into town dragging big bags of blankets.
Singing hymns from what seemed like a foreign, dreamy era.

“Have you seen her blankets? Handmade, but amateurish.” Babbled Cousin.

I just shook my head. “I’m going to buy one..”
“My ma says she should be ignored until she disappears.”

“Your ma would!” I power walked to the lady, annoyed.

Cousin shouted “you’ll wake her up then we’ll be ghosts!”

An Axe Under The Orchid Oak Tree

It caught my eye during a routine morning.

I was mowing the lawn and I saw it.

My friend always says “Gina, you’ve got bionic eyes.”

I believed it that day.

Once I got closer; I saw it was an axe.
Polished maple wood handle, an edge so sharp it sang out a slicing tone which cut through the silent autumn wind.

The Orchid Oak Tree was particularly menacing this morning; it boasted its immensity on days that were going to be stale, eventless.

Everyone around the town would picnic around the hill it was perched upon.

Lest it release agents that produced stinging nightmares.

But this axe… I wonder.

«It’s in your hands» a thought runs up my spine; tickling the tips of my fingers.

Another gush of wind. I squint my eyes.
Bending down and lifting it up.

…I wonder…

Punch Detonate

Barking electronic voice boxes
Ghostly static persisting,
insisting on outdated data,
eroded ideals and fossilised schemata.
Upgrades are slow with time standing in the way.

«What’re the algorithm specs?
Any word on the paradigm progress?»

Nails spin out, face stretches out; senses phase out.
Digital zombies barking with electronic voice boxes.