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From a Little Balcony.
30th-Jan-2009 11:59 am - Giving in

give in to the red

ok. i lose. or livejournal. whatever. proxying proves to be too difficult to perform on any kind of regular basis in that great fire-walled kingdom known as china. so i shant. so this is a moving notice, till i return to sporean lands for good, or the middle kingdom decides that it aint worthwhile to firewall out livejournal, i shall be residing at unplaceables.blogspot.com. i no likey moving. :(

11th-Dec-2008 12:31 am - Out comes the rusty knife

On A Moment of Happiness

Right now, there are winter vegetables on slow boil.
Melting carrots. Making coffee
to stain the heated air. Unsugared.
In the hall, Amos Lee singing "Careless" on repeat over the stereo.
I am sitting down and waiting, my thoughts on her
and my hand reaches instinctively for cigarettes.
In a little bit, she'd be sending stick-figure cartoons to taunt me.
But I don't know that yet. Right now, I'm ok.
Then the song reaches a particular part
when i am all slung back and blanketed,
my fingers twirling the unlit cigarette, the empty box on the floor
with the soup in the kitchen calling and the coffee
burning. Her.
That splintered moment when the smile I bear is true.
Then it passes the line. Plus one
to the sum of everything that was right
and it all feels different now.

25th-Aug-2008 06:21 pm - maybe i'll start again.

maybe i'll start writing again.

11th-Feb-2008 02:32 am - windowside.

Window Conversations

#14-97. Marine Crescent

A woman hanging laundry -
everything has an order:
First undergarments, shirts and pants after,
then Bata shoes, newly whitened.

From her kitchen corners,
her plants, like spiders,
are asking for light, windows, bamboo poles
something to climb, to cling on to.

#11-908. Rivervale Street

She asks herself why
after the children have been sent to school,
the smell of nothing
becomes incredible.

Who taught the old men chess?
Within void deck boundaries,
Black Pawn takes White Queen
and tosses her fallen
amongst other ebony bodies.

# 04-0213. AMK, Street 21

A block across,
the smoking man in a singlet looks over,
his bony hand propped on his window:
For support.

She answers him with puff of Marlboros.
cow heavy in her pyjamas,
the unglam Mrs Lazurus
but unashamed
to be staining the laundry below with ash.

9th-Feb-2008 01:32 pm - reworked stuff

Ear Plugs

You showed them to me,
two pieces of orange foam on your open palm.
In case the nights here turned out as troubled
as the ones you rolled through in Manhattan.
You pulled back your hair to lodge them in,
while I sat there beside the bed I relinquished to you,
watching you ready yourself
to catch all the sighs that escape
from under your breath.
Wanted to remind you that you are here now.
That New York and all its monsters
are too many miles away.
But then
you stopped listening a long time ago.

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