Poet Deploriate

Where whimsy meets cynicism, the gherkins rebel and the kids are all right. Poems from a top hat, Melbourne. First collection available here: http://amzn.to/Qnm0UB

Age, the vampire

An age-cragged man
seeks solace in the teat
of a tomato sauce bottle
concaving it like his cheeks
while his wife orders fries
and we look anywhere else.

So damned ugly

The trick is not
to search for
beauty in ugliness -
but to realise that
without ugliness
there is no beauty -
or cane toads.

Ode to my cookie

Let me kiss your
chunky tumours
baptise my fingers
in your golden yolk
Joker my smile
with your cocoa flesh
and probe for
macadamia infusions -
you are the
Elephant Man dessert
the sweet tooth’s balut.


The slinking approach
of an electric car -
kerb-caressing feline guile
voiceless crouch-lunge -
my hummingbird heart
breaks an imposed silent vow
and chirps a threaded hello.

Internal blackout

An electrician
caesarians a
street side box -
riffles through
spaghetti innards
nips and tucks
shears and prunes
with the iffy precision
of a surgeon whose
work is safe
from prying eyes -
I wonder who
will be tasked
with flicking that
final switch.

Homesick café

To hear the metronomic
of a steam-frantic
espresso machine
after weeks of
library-hushed caf├ęs:
the embracing sound
of home.

Index finger

Electric can opener
juicer and blender
miscellaneous motors
and sparky tails -
our opposable thumbs
are a disposable part
of the larder selection.


If I were a giant
I would pull tissues of smoke
from the chimneys of terraced houses
and mop words into the sky.

The city, always hungry

The hard shelled ants
go tromping
one by one -
into the subway depths -
and the ants
go toting
one by one
their daily bread
back to
their mawish queen.

Central Park, 3pm

Unlikely dogs -
huge heads, tiny legs -
walked by unlikely women -
huge heads, tiny legs -
and the quiet bark
of careful breeding.


My caffeinated bladder:
the most impetuous
tour guide
I have ever followed -
and follow its
swollen heart
I will
if it means avoiding
the bitter end.


Light warbles in the glass
of skywalking buildings -
they reflect in each other
leadlight mirrors in utero.