A How To: Getting ready for a date



Soap my musky pits

wash my - almost mullet

Rinse my girl to woman breasts

scrub my asshole

that tight sphincter.

After all these years of fight

could be the strongest muscle I’ve got left

Though I've told myself i don't need that brawn anymore

I know Krav maga now

20 years too late.



Set a reminder to stay safe

No. there’s already an alarm, too many

Choose a shirt, feelin boyish, casual

Not too sexy. 

this should shade my femininity,

a boyish tee, a trustworthy look - to a boy.

Surely you'd respect one of your own. Fraternity style.



No need to worry,

I practiced while washing my - almost mullet and rinsing my

girl to woman breasts

I’ve envisioned how to wring your windpipe flat,

how to go on a date.

POEMS




SYDNEY - A HYPERPRODUCTIVE CITY
Soft Stir Magazine 2022 - Issue #1


I spent much of my time writing this

essay reflecting on my years as an

athlete, understanding my body

through the squinted eye of the

biomedical model, understanding this

model as a product of our broader

political structure, and

understanding it as a jockstrap for this patriarchal city. With the leftover hole of negative space, it hopefully draws out the silhouette of the anti-capitalist body. The rest of that silhouette is filled in with my after athlete explorations of gender, body diversity and disability.

















SYDNEY VS SYDNEY

Yeah Nah Yeah 2018


The floor is covered in stilettos, feet braced in the forever point of ballerina. There are ironed out colours, shirts and shoulders stiffened against gravity, then there is us, smeared lipstick, rash vests and a curiousity for the cultural modified body. This peice is an investagative reflection of a public performance artwork, entering the Ivy Pool Club, a venue of Sydney’s florid nightlife. 

From George street, the Ivy’s music bulges outward and rings against Sydney’s cityscape. Its a deadened Sunday afternoon but the Ivy presents us with a salvation, ushering us from street side to Pool Club. The ceilings are lofty and appropriate for lengthened humans 11ft tall and our presence does nothing to fill out the of hollowness of excess space. Every surface is shaved clean with the blades of Gillette; the rest of our senses are overpowered by the aftershave of glamoour...

” 






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I pay my respects to the First Nation custodians of this land and to those who continue to act in a custodial way towards this land. My practice takes place on the grounds of Gadigal and Wangal Land of the Eora Nation.

 
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