Monthly Archives: June 2013

Lovers’ Wounds

My lover has a swollen mouth
From all the bruised words
She has fed me

My lover has a broken arm
From all the free love
He has handed out

But it’s just alright with me
Because they live within my skin
No I don’t mind bleeding
For their love

Night’s a Fool

The night is fresh
It is unlimited and lifted
Free from days restrains
And fool for the lovers

First Kisses

Don’t forget your first kisses
Not one of them

I still remember
The one at the all-boys school
At 10pm
After we jumped the fence
Talked for hours
And under flood light
The ground span

The one on the train station over pass
At 2am
Too many beers
Sore feet
And too far to go anywhere else
But to your place

The one at your parents house
Next to the baby grand
On a much too white couch
Listening to a jazz man
This is the life

The one out the back of a house party
On white plastic lawn chairs
I asked
You laughed and leaned in
Our lips pressed and didn’t stop
For three months

I have many first kisses
Pushed into the pockets
Of old jeans
Hidden in the back
Of old diaries
Still hanging
Like fruit on connecting vines
That exist
Even now
When I see a familiar face

I love my first kisses
They are my gold

Paper Pieces


Down on that street,
The one that corners 3rd,
In between the knick knack shop
Of lost items from the 70s
And a costume store
Run by Romanians with tattoos
Playing Diana Ross from their outside stereo
I found a piece of you.
It was in that record store
With the crates out the front
Cardboard boxes in the rear
And tour posters of Sonic Youth from ’92.
In between the back catalogue of Bowie
Underneath the rare bootlegs of Prince
Right where I expected The Clash to be,
Making friends with Tom Waits instead
You sat
The idea of you with your paper wings
And paper heart
Placing a foothold into all the things
You could have been
Tucked into someone else’s
Burnt out light globe
You gave me the idea
Of making my own music,
Singing songs outside of my heart
The way you did
With your paper pieces
Now folded
Into my own organised catalogues
Tucked under my arm
As I leave with records
I will play by myself
On repeat

Words by Lisa Inger
Artwork ‘Origami Idea’ and Image by Caen N


Your fable words
Turn whispers
Into nothing more
Than childish stories

Try a devilish prose
And a scheming mind
To engage depth
Where the tales weave

For long ago lessons
Are not the light in the window
But the shadows
Impressed by dark