Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  feral us transported at birth damaged/ing yet life the thin wineglass so easy to shatter in tired potato farmer's hands the cold clod & hot stoker -- the song of the brown mynah chittlebells Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2026.

  prespring in Naarm oh, the bumpers are wet musta been rainin

  glory prespring is here a bit later than last year i guessed when i noticed the birds but here is the park conclusive: wattle blooms such rich varieties i bathe in the air as if deep en vacances* even after only 10 minutes if i were little i am little living under delicate butter cap umbrellas inviting friends to gather around invisible bonfires & whistling barely perceptible patterns inside/outside the wind where sirens do not penetrate lest fleshy & just passing through for a cuppa this is not the 1st time ive felt like this before o sweet relief it won't be too much longer before the butterflies come astonishing concordance: its too cold to sit a winter man so i stand & make for my address approached by a little loving dog up for a play we do i smile giggles to the exercising owner she utters "little social butterfly here" ha! concordance indeed prespring hope for the spirit nature the healer & on i walk in hug i am filled with the echo of the tree ti...

  are they faking? or do some people actually like meetings? i don't wanna join a commitee i wanna whimsy frisbee & jump out the window & float above the hill like a snoring dog lettin a fart rip

  there's something very interesting tantalising beyong reach regardless of the universality of starting a conversation beginning with mistaken identity

  art is a dynamic field hard surfaces a wounded animal drying blood printed on cracked glass under light slow breath reflections behind my ear a daisy im going crazy  for a hug my phone arrived with a broken screen to let the light tinker inside your shell  where the snail is born the sea protects me from the beying wolves inside the quiet inside the noise