recent stuff by allan boyd - antipoet

The sound of dry leaves and twigs brushing dusty black boots, crunch of wafer thin slivers of dry red mud.

The ancient crack and rumble. Red-rock fists of god and stars. And echoes of songs of giants gone. Gone. Gone…

Red earth moist and thick like congealed blood.

Maps in our veins of blood, mud, salt, blood, mud, salt, blood, mud, salt.

the road - by Kevin Gillam and Allan Boyd

the road scars right, across the
crippled self; also scissored, a
palm of land, tumbling, dwindling,
busting like a burst hot-dog
a groove, a history, a way in,
a fissure of sermons
worn and healed slick
a scoff of wallpaper

fly in fly out fly in fly out
and she’s on another swing
a roundabout of airports
another pilbara narrative
racking up the qantas points
at the exit seat, inside a novel
pindan fingers
pindan boots
fly in fly out fly in fly out
siren, rumble of blast
iron hills to rubble
at the next CAT ONE shutdown
we evacuate ourselves
in a debt cycle
for a new house i’ll never live in
a boat I’ll never float
and fly in fly out fly in fly out
six years of missed birthday cake

I'm Allan Boyd aka the antipoet. Welcome to my site. In 1995 I founded the Openmouth sessions at the PICA Bar in Perth Western Australia, where emerging poets got loud and experimental, where indie music met spoken sounds, and performance poetry met noise. We packed the place to overflow every month! I've been pretty much doing poetry and organising arts stuff ever since.