Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Tonight, missing my old friends in Broken Hill, I went to the Friend in Hand at Glebe to find out what their poetry night was all about. I returned with a poem:
Barflies in Glebe
red velvet woman
with red velvet voice
strums the soul
to the chuckle of double bass
a girl tosses smoke puffs
back with a flick of brown ringlets
a statement of bohemian cool
from the corner
full speed
schizo-stream-of-consciousness
performs to an unseen audience
three minutes
stretched to the limit
stories of unrequited lust
or writer’s block
eyebrow-raised humour
sex as a condiment
youth their wine
and I, from the worker’s world
they spurn and yet aim to join
sit in the dark
stale smoke my memory
this poem my souvenir
19/8/03
Piokiwi 3:53 am
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