Tuesday 11 June 2019


I'm unsure if the planes,
the tickets,
the luggage
or people
are where the spark is set,
but airports set my life

Those birds, those
flying though heavier
than our hearts can get…
Those engines roar of hope
and chances.

The tickets…
—each a checkpoint, a gateway,
a shot at the other side.

The luggage…
—my home for 6 months,
     still my world more spacious than runways.

And the people?
They’re telling stories
even when passed out across Departures.
That girl there’s in transit;
that guy there’s apprentice to this all.
And that one there?
It’s hard to tell.
They could be tears of joy
or of farewell.

The most important thing

We're standing here,
on a cliff at the edge of the world.

Yer, we can argue politics
     but the surf
     against the rocks
               then stretches to oblivion.

No one is listening,
nobody cares
and neither do we.
Seven years of this
and all we’ve convinced each other
is that we love each other.

It was never about opposing views
—turns out
we just enjoyed the chats,
come what may.

I’m alone again.
You know I’m shit at love
and in gales
at edges of the world
I can’t yell loud enough
to coach my heart.

But you’re here, bro,
as the world wars
and my heart hunts bunkers for guns
to turn one on itself.

Maybe through us
it’ll learn how to love.
We disagree on almost everything
and yet
that’s coming to be our favourite part.

Through the trauma of the world
and the cruelty of the heart,
we’ve found our little nook at the edge of it all
to pretend
that something other than company
is the most important thing
after all.