Drifting points |      | Stars, hand trailing over the side | of the yacht | a lick of alcohol | on our lips | the kiss | stained with depths |      | Shore, the repetitive surfeit of the waves | we cannot | process the boredom or the grandeur |      | Moment of haze | we grow unsure | of how we came to |     | this lost position

|     | Fugue state | Walking slowly through a new town | not recalling | getting off a train | or driving |      | View down the street, the sea | bay with gulls and frangipani | jacarandas | figs |     | Encompassing | nothing but |     | Erotic dew | stirring | the sheets | whirled into | a white topography |      | Restating | a loyal return | sure | this is our story: love, not just | a private tale |      | Snipped thread |      | Hushed | before the traffic | builds | on the Eastern Distributor | Southern Cross Drive |      | Taking a right |      | Youth, dawn, arriving

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)