Wollongong CBD

In the heart of the city lives the float.
She has to walk over it to see it being built there.

For three consecutive years now every day after her first coffee of the morning she has watered the bad grass which grows under the window of the municipal board, alternating before or after with the watering of the diverse window-edge plants with their roots like extra ventricles.

The green ants have taken one of her contact lenses in to their electric home.
The huge man in the office said that he is a living legend.

While the small grandfathers leave the trellis
Sophia Moon pushes for the jettisoned bird like an origami.

Straight lines could be drawn from the anime-like crane to the cavern-like hues of the blue canvased construction building.

“Wrap your laughter equipment around it”, said the legend.

On the train to work that morning she saw a pile of cement sleepers with a tag of red graffiti.

 View this poem on The Disappearing »

Joel Ephraims reads 'Lampshade Phrenology'