tarmac
velvet-gravel my-
space voice
speaking its mind in chopped-up lines
This is the output of the old and new millennia
We reach out to touch but there's too much space
J D Salinger moans in our head
Sylvia Plath kills herself again and again
and again, finally gets it right, lies dead
at our feet, her children screaming,
screaming for one good mind
the kind of mind
that speaks in lines
not in dollar signs
Oh I wish I wish I wish I was born
the girl who's more fun / I'd show you my map
if I only had one
but I'm black from neck to knee, black
to my shins, from my black-track feet to my V8
head, double-white-line face, eyes
desert dry
(with apologies to Martha Wainwright & Steve Smart for stealing & twisting
their lines)
--
Janet Jackson <[log in to unmask]>
www.proximity.webhop.net / www.myspace.com/poetjj
The Line Mine for Perth poets:
[log in to unmask]
groups.yahoo.com/group/thelinemine
Breastfeeding info & help: www.breastfeeding.asn.au
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