you do not have to read this

waking at last
to the body

as an oyster.
no knife of morning
articulate enough

to penetrate –
to yawn apart the
shell of me.

sleeping greedily,
no granular dream
to irritate me to some

clichéd lustrous bead:
the vulvar flesh
is pearl enough

for me.


Liv (the) Infinite and Maia Sinclair-Ferguson (a.k.a Patch) have arrived, and even just a moment of Liv’s calm, warm amber energy last night was a salvo of bright cheer, Doubting Thomas is marshalling the resources, and when I work out which end of this black mood I’m coming out of, I’ll be over there at Turnstyle giving as good as I can.

There will be soup, BYO alcohol and even some to buy, people to talk to, things to think about. Leave your inner obsessive compulsive at home. I know I will be.

For there is Un-Required Reading to be done tonight as a part of the Brisbane Fringe Festival.

I had my tarot cards read recently, and if you come to see the show tonight, then I will be interested in seeing where you fit in the strangely figured landscape of my dream, the marbled colours of things that have stayed with me in my head since then. Because everything since has been a terrible mix of prescient/know-it-all/Cassandra/punch-line-spoiler. Like this is all some terrible joke.

Is this me encouraging you to come to the gig tonight?

Yes it is.

Thurs 13th & Fri 14th September
@ Turnstyle Commmunity Hub: 10-12 Laura St, Highgate Hill
Ticket Price: $10 on the door (soup included!)
BYO & Bar Available

I say 7.30pm if you want to get the good bean bag.

Categorized as musing

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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