issue 4

october 2016

issue 4 - october 2016

impose Their language - essa ranapiri

You borrow from faggots
and queers alike
a thief riddled with 

Foucault’s chains- 
are not chains are
linked at the opposable thumb
scraping back the paint on your corneas

the context
on your friends and family

with signifier of cloth  
projector screen 
warps at the edges where it isn’t straight 

Otherwise known as bullshit
non-binary is complete 
and utter- 
It doesn’t fit with zeroes and ones hun
paint the nails and trim them back 
to raw

Your name is like the dusk
a photosynthetic blip 
of masking tape 
your beliefs 
have nothing to do with it 

wrench in the gasket 
the piston is in and out and

Right in his fucking arsehole
lies the law
a sun the size of a jungle
feels like a fist

jolting the skull
loosening the grey matter

should tear off your hair to make everything match
the tool is pressed to your tail bone
you know what to do 

with the rest of the problem
you c
        all a genderless body

in the no man’s field 
ripen beyond seeds 
ferment beyond willows

And swallow what you spit up.

Circadian Rhythm - essa ranapiri

There are so many nows and they keep 

I would love you on one knee. 
Turn each one of your quips into a dose, 
and consume.

the mouth open wide 
and the hand down the pants tracing paper 
on the thighs. 
Playing script down my throat. 
Something like love me tender 
or choke on this 
                    in your eyes.

                    Slide to the side, the words will never look finished.

Shared the couch at Wonderhorse 
you were to my left 
my whole body was swivelled to face you 
I talked about a fucking t-shirt for a good minute or so just to keep the focus on: 
          Aubergine your favourite 
A solipsistic dog insisting that the swimmer got it all wrong 
by placing a world within your eggplant basket; 
                                                                                                    The fish fell in love with you. 
So I tattooed it onto my wrist 
see here ichthys; 
it weeps fertile, a circle with a point 
                                        ichor thistle 
                                        You said the navel 
                                        You said 
The knee is plastered to the ground and I can’t suck your poison out fast enough 
make a cup with my hands 
draw discordant 
like a satchel in a tight breeze 
Not sure what you’re getting at or how 
but I want all of you down here and in all of me 
like snapper or hoki or-

                                                                                                    Sentiment and bullshit on the lino;

Where bodies fuck/ and come 
                                               apart/ like dry leaves.

not delivered due to lack of postage - essa ranapiri

I want 
your dog of marriage 
hempel collected 
sketchbook bound 
take up the plastic 
and teeth graze the 
marks of fibrous hooks 
into the epitaxy 

The sticker wasn’t indication enough; 
Turn it. 
One out of two sides is not hidden. 
One out of two sides is a car door slam.


there was a tradition of that 

Bottom lip twitch 
clear-throat cough, 
isolated spittle 
mottled oropharynx 
Cricket call at 300 bpm 
Trying to recoil the strength to do something about it.

Poltergeist of the inner ear 
denies notification 
to avoid empty serotonin rush 
we would have called it a river if we could see it
                                                                                                  but we can’t.

Contributor's Note

essa ranapiri is a gender-queer poet who writes a lot, some of it is good. They study English at the University of Waikato.


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