Nathan Anderson


There was a birth here not too long ago


silence
                             these spaces
                             
                             also known as
                             also known as

twitching in the 
light diffusion
returning to 
chromatic desperation

                            leading into

entropy

miracle of birth, 
first found and replaced by levels on nothing, 
man can no longer reproduce, 
thirty or thirty five years, 
longer for the speech to settle in, 
longer for the words to cease reverberation, 
longer for the wolf that feeds the cub, 
longer for the screaming city streets, 
                             
                             
                                by all means enjoy your toxic ambrosia,
                      by all means look forlornly into vacant space,
                           by all means employ your weary emblems,
                              by all means conscript me into your bed. 



Poultice Kiss + Kiss 


these tender threads
      pulled to extremity
come forth towards the charging
mule 


emblem emblem emblem emblem emblem
emblem emblem emblem emblem emblem


is this your red?
   frost on the reservation
(ampersand section)
(ampersand section)
                   politically motivated
seen in the corner
wrongfully accused
drifting casts the measure


breathe deeply now            [AND]


exhale... 



Hands (abridged)


wrestling with


words
words
infinity

        placarded through numerical
        advantage
                 taken and reprised as though

and
and 
and

           
           monumental without spelling
           timelessness of snakes in hand baskets



wrongfully informed
                  again
                      again
                          again

wrongfully amused
                 but
                    but
                       but


spoken and reread in song and solace without makers playing tennis as 
though they are thought of as answers as though markings will not take to 
the streets and ambush the waiting soldiers left wanting


play play
play again
play again Susie
play again
                                             play play
                                             play again
                                             play again Susie
                                             play again 



Camel


Welcome!

to this the oblivion church


                           NOISE
                           NOISE
                           NOISE
                           NOISE

scrupulous in afterthought
sand banked
sand banked


there is a glass that sits on the window


                sill


did

you

put

it

there?
                     
 

Nathan Anderson is a writer from Mongarlowe, Australia. He is the author of the poetry book Deconstruction of a Symptom (Alien Buddha Press) and has had work appear in The Babel Tower Notice Board, Coven, Otoliths and elsewhere. You can find him at nathanandersonwriting.home.blog or on Twitter @NJApoetry.

 
 

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