Picnic at Hanging Rock


There are places for girls
Softer than down, smoother than air,
unknown to themselves.
you may remove your gloves

How foolish can human creatures be?
Waiting a million years just for us.
For the sweet meaning of thy brow,
I think I must be doomed.

Beautiful birds, them swans.
…the last one was… slim and fair.
No bones broken.
And death is in the sky

venomous snakes and poisonous ants.
into her little covered basket.

Everything begins and ends…
Well, I can’t forget it, and I never will.
Can’t stand the ticking above my heart.
Stopped at twelve.

Nothing changed. Ever.
People just don’t disappear, my dear.
the dark one with the curls.

we might be the only living creatures
covered with tiny sums.
She wants algebra today.

on a white horse in a spangled dress.
Quite scratched.
If it were mine I’d wear it always,

Will you come with me?
I know another piece of poetry by heart.

People don’t sit on cold steps in the dark
human beings are without purpose…
Dead quiet.
Pitch black outside.

What sort of a cloud?
It was red.
It comes back at night in dreams.
The fingernails are all torn and broken.

The pier, the sands and the people.
‘Nor for the cupids that do lie
She is quite intact.
Pansies. That’s what it smelt like.


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