Who needs sleep anyway? (an insomnia tanka) — Sunk in couch — just one more song — he’s off to bed, you linger on, no plans ahead, another fave — it’s 4am; that’s Sunday gone.

a fable, as song lyric — with audio (words and music, reunited) — ㅤㅤHe said, “Maybe you can be someone more like me — gently despising, while brutally deriding dinner party artfulness, suburban banality. People disappoint, with their nonsensical fallacies. Hiding behind these tricks of the mind, their logical deviations reveal their daily consternation — resistant to a closer examination.” ㅤㅤI said,

free verse poem, with audio — As a boy, he felt the weight of his heart heavy in his hands. He worried on ㅤㅤwhat to do, ㅤㅤhow to hold ㅤㅤthis load of longing, hauling him down, ㅤㅤdown, ㅤㅤㅤㅤdown, ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤinto blue depths ㅤㅤㅤㅤof unknowing. The smile of a girl, gentle rosebud bow, with a quiver twinned the beating…

said the sneering inner city raving greenie to the politician who denied climate change — a mod-Oz Haiku — We’re front row at the Apocalypse — lattes in hand. See. Told you so.

those questions of consent – a #MeToo slam poem (with audio) — When I look at the statistics, I’m thankful — glad it hasn’t touched me, not really — but then there was that time on the train, coming home from uni — he had mirror sunglasses, stared ㅤㅤstraight ahead and a leather sheepskin jacket he threw across both our laps …

a haiku of life — So, thoughts and prayers – that’s how they tackle climate change; meanwhile, Sydney burns. Yesterday morning, I left for work under blue skies. Yesterday evening, I stepped out of the office to the smell of bushfire, a film of smoke filtering the dusk. From the train, I saw the setting…