new zealand electronic poetry centre

R A C H E L   O' N E I L L


Famous last words

                       I reserve
the right to take your heart out
with an instrument like eternity; this is the spitting  
image of peace of mind –
Unsure? Then ask yourself
“Haven’t you always desired
famous last words”?
These are the licenses of perturbed friendship- if
we argue about number plates mine is the most
and don’t believe I won’t back tight
up to your welcome
mat - my plans are like-wise.
That night you dream steadily
up the driveway, bumper dent to door
shut- up, a scratch;
haven’t you always craved peace and quiet?
Graciously, love for disturbance
means wonder stands its ground
talking myself out – tonight  
I donate myself to myself.
Once inside I see
you have remodeled the bathroom, the
cupboard with the thermostat right to your belly
button upholstered acrylic
everything has opportunity to sweat
and life drips parallel lines; silence
in state.
In the few photographs - lips sunning  
there are eyes that hold in for all they’re worth
intestines falling to
dirt , the glue and transparent tape we picked from groins
of books, trailing a little while after.
Needless to say we are happy then, with upheavals? Our
resourcefulness ? The dismembered library, making
laughter-out-loud , ours?
Somewhere in the laughter – tremble, you’ll turn out fine,
somewhere find a place in you that’s never made a sound
blame it in somewhere, occupy
it all along.
Somewhere I want
my crowded room
lets get personal – so personal, eternally
so , sound
is heart-felt solidified next to stone
in the image of the instrument, words
grow with your feet and shrink
the sentiment, sober with size and a
smell ;
unidentifiable peace.
is extract – the story
snoozing anomalies, her
stomach – debilitating indigestion, and this is
almost always the problem –
things that sleep in;
she says not to worry about trouble spots – blind or beauty
as motivational speakers use to describe the habitable area
above air and below the
bone :
I was born to live-in, she said
accusing the sweating bed
but using my name -
I want fingernails again
you always want what you can give
yourself - an itch.
Lets get out of here –
the world under the grass, spit
a certain magnetism, draw into liquid sensation
under wind broken under world calm equipped
                – the thought of foul-play
    manned or unmanned as space has been
the espionage of dust
over-spoken cloud
of language – energy muscle over-lapping
  -yes, just reach it
the things that decay out there.
There, humble beginnings live up to the condition of hope
so little understood except when salvaged or under
siege of
maneuver - remember we camped out  
under the falling debris
and I swear you looked so peaceful
with you mouth open
sleeping just in case
the catch of the day came hurtling
kept secrets sold libraries warmed foundations burnt your tongue
with something like tingling
for encouragement, a kiss
a taste of things to come
I part your lips through the parachute – feel you
my mission is to feel you up – like fuel
I fall asleep breathing
to make it last.
Taking the heart out, the ground emerges
in saliva – a hand becomes what sticks
together , company being a last resort,
solidity a skill,
jurisdiction a name for the soil type
hand to mouth
breath burnished
finger ends skin
flat till time, no, more or less
our condition shudders out its welcome:


Last updated 28 April, 2006