pulse nerve and wire,

sometimes i think it’s in the way
his head turns left, right, left
crossing streets with hands grasping hands
and fingertips finding shade in the cove
his palm makes.

it’s too hot when the sun
is out, skin can never survive.

and sometimes i know what he’s thinking,
brain patterns can be traced 5.4 seconds
before a thought is vocalised, scientists
said recently. but maybe it’s my
own brain patterns that i’m tracking.

electrical impulses pulse pulse
nerve and wire, skin and desire
the shocks that come and the shakes
that send us packing for the underground.

i’d get lost in the underground with you.

it’s a matter of cement burning
the soles of ones feet with toes dancing
and the smell that comes from coffee and cigarettes.

your clothes smell of summer
but summer was always too much
for me.

and so, i am in the process of moving house and christmas and new years and working five days a week and nothing else is happening. i am still not writing apart from ocassional trysts with words that always end badly but i am looking at getting some of my photography showcased in a local art gallery or maybe at a festival coming up in august next year. we will see. i am melting in this heat, summer and sun that makes you sweat out all the water in your body even when you are stationary. i cannot wait to get out of australian summer. i apologise for not catching up as much as i should be, things are just so busy and i am hardly home because things are strange and i think i am drifting from everyone bar one or two people and sometimes i care, but most times i don’t and i wonder what’s happening to me.

anyhow, another time another place, work calls me and then setting up the tree for when family visits tomorrow, it should be good. i hope you are all taking care of yourself and i promise i will return in a week or two once i am settled in my new place.

much love,