sending spicatums

casting hot sandwiches
at unplanted paddocks again
a ritual of sorts

an offering to the unexplained dirt

nine point three hectares each here
in that sunfucked beach block

the spikes of natives stab shins
and we stride blind
thru thistle forest mounds

okagee dust now lungbutter
tomorrow the mogumber plains
another wet beer story

then we sink like wheat bags
in the rodeo upholstery

and in rancid groups
of grass-seeded socks
we sell blood for these nuts

the yellow rock mocks those pissing cows
are they bigger than utes?

we're settled now, in packets of five
in boxes of caravan food
round the fetid carcasses

seeking a shade

a sign

from
her