Electronic Music Making

Artwork by Amie Anderson
Artwork by Amie Anderson

what you ought to do is not
go home tonight.

how many phonemes elided

when a man tears off your headphones

like a knee-jerk usurpation of a crown

to say psychedelic trance is powering
starport indra? wrest them back
politely. chrome engine fumes –


sucked along the red light
end of Smith Street
in a slipstream of eaux de
parfum named ocean, sport
romance, euphoria.


nature lives nowhere
but cracks in the pavement, the render on
your sober face crumbling
like the handiwork of a third
millennium husband.


watch a man with one leg try

to jump a fence. he does

but to what end? all there is

on the other side, fennel weed

arrowheads angling toward Eureka,

an embankment, a highway,

an embankment, fennel weeds, a fence


although, no pulse issues light

out for the territory, only not to pack

it in just yet. the night too sweet a post-

script of spring rain for an apartment

roof, flyscreen, twenty ceilings piled like

earthquake rubble atop you.


sit on a bench and unravel

a designer bindle. drink more. once the laptop boots

you turn the wet

on the arpeggiator to a million percent,

imagine the redlining CPU

as hypertensive heart, notice butterfly

colours in the citied clouds.


Melbourne, a Honeyeater nest

felled by slingshot and housed in

a Lucite cube.

most of its wailing hatchlings can

breathe okay. most of its poets can’t

remember when they wrote

better than on a late arriving train.


now a Russian doll containment

buries the notes

in your lead synthesiser line.

no escape from the beautiful

Melodies you sometimes fluke

so drunk, so tired, you are seeing

the eyes of men as green

as the puddles on the road.