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- Jé Maverick
Hey there, I’m Jé Maverick, a poet and writer who lives and works in Canberra, the national capital of Australia. I’ve found that blogging is the perfect medium for poetry, mostly composed of less than sixty lines, and am hoping that through this blog I can generate as much interest in poetry as possible. Poetry is a vital and significant art form that is the true workshop of any language. I’m interested in teaming up with as many poetry fans and poets as possible (whatever their level of skill and dedication), and creating a network around the web for those who would like to see poetry and its authors re-emerge as an energetic and far reaching community. To find out some more facts about who I am and what makes me tick, please visit the about page, send me a note through the contact page, or see what I'm up to on the projects page. Thanks for reading! :-)
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byFriday, October 8, 2010This world, without you;it is as this: night follows night -the dark day crawls into corners and glares.It asks me to add the gleam, to perform,to cast my own light on things:a beggar throwing alms towards the rich.Perhaps I’ll move with lighter feeton each loose shard of morning that is broken,or learn to love the clots of timethat can’t be shaken free.In this world, without you,I wade knee deep through the days black bilge:living alone; dying alone; sleeping as a monk.
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byThursday, October 7, 20101.In this turning awaylies your secret father,the concealed one.I have stolen the truth in his eyes.I have stolen the momenthe is afraid to let you see. -
byWednesday, October 6, 2010I orbit her without magic.I orbit her without magic and hereyes are dark.Her eyes are dark, and partof her is catatonic with the loss.I am wheeling in the distance,orbiting her without magic, andwith her eyes fixed to mine,little trooper,she reaches for a smilethat isn’t there. -
byTuesday, October 5, 2010Tacked to a limbo oflongitude and latitude,love-louse-ridden,humbled by the gray marchof time,all kisses assemblebehind my wooden lips:prepared;primed;expectant;they are staccato ready:toting their hushed nerves;their amassed silences;their unwavering aims… -
byMonday, October 4, 2010Everything is over.The moonless night.The laughter of wicked men.Even truth has been forgotten.This meeting of fingers -this flash of touch; this brief glancethat holds a sniper’s lethal aim.This is how it feelsto be frozen by divine accident.
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bySunday, October 3, 20106 a.m in Salistoga.Perhaps somebody makesyour skin sing with morning,with a gentle affirmationof touch,or you shakebeneath a seismic caress.My hands have never been this empty. -
bySaturday, October 2, 2010It is not the dark of a night, this climax we priseopen like a gulf: it is a cavern’s bowel;it is a fathom of ink;it is the spread of a black pall.We make loveto the crescendo of our own demise,our own reapers, cutting down the last need spiltwithout pleasure: not so much grim,but gone… -
byFriday, October 1, 2010I tried forsaking you,sought out a foreign tongueas your executioner.I cannot forgive myself,circling amongst the shelves andstacks –lone eagle of regret -one blunt wing; one limp rudderof a stunned remembrance. -
byThursday, September 30, 2010Tigress, hunter of the merciless day,curling your soft shape into my hungry grasp,night climbs through your feline gaze;sleep fills you with a sleek purr.The room is aflame with your ember.You glow within my arms; your sparkling fleshsmoulders with the godliness of perfect heat:you flare in me like a wild craving… -
byWednesday, September 29, 2010I have loved you with solitude,with myth,with a lack of fragrance,with the solemn inventoriesof all objectsthat don’t have your name affixed.When the retiring face of Autumndrops onto the world,it is our love…
