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Brentley Frazer

Coda Envelope

I even uncovered a few
scattered bricks & figures
from a garden. a man smiling
like Lazarus on the up-ramp.
on the decline there are mothers
burying their sons, tools of various
descriptions hidden in their skirts.

Small Meat Doll

There are those who would plunder the
displeased of her dying word, and others
there to lick clean all her wounds.
In the pure undimmed symphony of
morning, while we idle watch the kites
of boys and old men stoop beneath the
towers, she comes.

Outside and lonely and wearing a little
green plastic farmyard fence around each
nipple and her lips somehow oriental,
holding a meat-doll like an old friend
I want to say to her:
-where did you get those boots?
but I remain too shy.


With heavy fingers thread flowers
through the black weave of my acrylic
cardigan. Beside us on the couch talking
about mountains, a single standard scream
hangs suspended. Even here we seem
uncertain, outside the ceramic perfume
of a circuit-board and spiders dying
on the lawn.


seeing with new eyes the beast
which eats the minds of my sisters
angelic magnetic bodies which bleedů
(nourished & star capable)
all manner of bedlam & strange
emblems carved as if with wind.
the gene pool of those addicted to
the opiates of the heart.


Brentley is an Australian born experimental poet and artist who has been published in many reputable magazines, anthologies and periodicals internationally including, Exquisite Corpse, Tiger Magazine, Jack Magazine, Short Fuse, Paper Tiger New World Poetry 1+ 2, The Stalking Tongue, Get Underground and Identity Theory. An extensive interview and review of Brentley's art is online and more information is available on the poets website. By day Brentley is editor in chief at Retort Magazine.

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