Melly, was that you at Blythe St this morning
when the tram grated and showered sparks into the...

Miss King is fat
with flesh, flesh...

Van Gogh is in Melbourne
so here I am finding myself...

You're moving in and you're moving
your religion with you. Our house...

We water the seeds each day. Each day we
watch the cautious creep of green...

It becomes an art
to shout under your breath...

I like skirts that float around my knees
Like cobwebs...

One afternoon I waded waist deep through
yellow grass to the old apple tree and there...

Fear not the morning fart, my sweeting,
though its stench be foul, its noise is bright...

To eat the first mango of Spring,
we walked to the park...

I
You're our intimate stranger...

These nights, love comes easily.
The air is honey-thick and steeped with Spring...