shopping list

1. language proficiency
2. dancing shoes
3. eggs
4. meat (mmm...)
5. some kind of wardrobe
6. laundry powder
7. more scarves
8. not-ugly gloves

Dancing and buying milk that is not milk

dear papa i have arrived in

Torun train station littered with lost marble

and bought peach and pomegrenate juice

for 3.99zls maybe I can buy the

world is raining raining

raining men allelujah it's raining

men (ought not to make generalisations about, especially not the

Polish men too tall and like men-I-know but not at all.

i would like a hug.

Warsaw is muddy.

The airport men hand held guns, black like toys.

Bread in Torun is for teaching integration -

a truncated ellipsoid sliced into cross-section planes,

we find the volume by making an infinite number of planes as

t approaches zero. Auckland bread, rectangular prisms,

too boring for thinking of integration.

Let's describe everything in spherical co-ordinates:

x=rho sine theta cos thingee thingee?

I have already begun to forget.

Oh no.

My poetry today is terrible,

but 'blogging' seems worse, dry and torn

like burnt polish dumplings (wrapped in cabbage, not pastry) on the pan

i had to scrub.

maybe dancing to two in strange clothes

has left me disjointed?

i miss my dresses my cat my cool

jeans are just not me but i somehow have no energy to buy the boots to match

sighs

everything has become a sign to hang onto

a weapon of sorts

soon i will be stronger;

not defined by what i wear

or by the milk-that-is-not-milk that i accidentally bought thinking it was milk.

Atleast yoghurt tastes pretty much the same.

Shift+F7, results pending.

Her first man was still a boy

when abstract nouns were

finally grasped

at the age of five.

When abstract nouns were

staking out virgin terrain

at the age of five,

love came first, spelt L-O-V-E,

Staking out virgin terrain,

him and her holding hands in photographic contracts,

love came first, spelt L-O-V-E.

Later came falling out of, burned by, suffering from unrequited etc etc.

Him and her holding hands in photographic contracts,

legality unknown, records lost.

Later came falling out of, burned by, suffering from unrequited etc etc.

Disillusion is spelt A-H, ah.

Legality unknown, records lost

of her second man, the great failed love.

Disillusion is spelt A-H, ah.

The end of disillusion is spelt tears, T-E-A-R-S.

Of her second man, the great failed love -

he charmed birds off trees -

the end of disillusion is spelt tears, T-E-A-R-S.

Sex is a concrete noun.

He charmed birds off trees

onto marble shoulders:

sex is a concrete noun,

but he was of denser stuff.

Onto marble shoulders

she tried to carve her kiss

but he was of denser stuff.

When satisfaction was too late arriving, she left.

She tried to carve her kiss

on the third, the fourth, the n-th numbered man.

When satisfaction was too late arriving, she left.

Loneliness is spelt with too many letters.

On the third, the fourth, the n-th numbered man,

she tested love's awkward grammar:

loneliness is spelt with too many letters,

she needs an antonym.

She tested love's awkward grammar,

finally grasped

she needs an antonym:

her first man was still a boy.

Whalesong

There are whales in my ear canal seas.
Your toxic sonic overspill is
hiking up beaching fatalities:
doubling, tripling, quadrupling.

Your toxic sonic overspill is
disorientating my whales. Interference
doubling, tripling, quadrupling
in cubic units of irresponsibility,

Disorientating my whales. Interference
unwanted, undesired, unacceptable.
In cubic units of irresponsibility,
you have breached your limit.

Unwanted, undesired, unacceptable.
Hush! It's calving season.
You have breached your limit.
Turn down the volume.

Hush! It's calving season.
My whales are struggling, still born.
Turn down the volume.
Clean up your sonic waste.

My whales are struggling, still born.
For all our sakes, STOP!
Clean up your sonic waste,
respect public aural space.

For all our sakes, STOP
hiking up beaching fatalities:
respect public aural space.
There are whales in my ear canal seas.

The Leftover List

1. Daylight hours, none.
2. Last night's roast beef, 3 slices.
3. Post-mortem fame.

90% of learning happens outside of class.

Her lips are framed around 'imperialism', threat-like.

You secretly thank her for fumbling the pronounciation (English is your language, imperialistic or not.)

After class, you press her lips back to where they belong: a stretched O/oh/barely escaping 'woe'.

Six Degrees of Separation

Test

Best

Bast

Bait

Bail

Fail.