FLIPPY’S T-SHIRT — DESIGNED BY EMMETT ALDRED - $44 including GST.  

WHITE T-shirt

RED T-shirt

PURPLE T-shirt

$44 including GST.

HIGH QUAL SCREEN PRINTING BY TOO FAR GONE, PRESTON
on GILDAN HEAVY COTTON t-shirts. orders made by Tuesday 17 DEC will be mailed on weds 18, or available for pickup at the bar during open hours.

sadly no more green (that was very limited, very special)

I knew the divorce would be tough. But no-one expects to lose every single poet in a divorce — not every last one.

For an entire year I thirsted for the stuff but there was not a drop to drink.

I mean I'd dream in poetry, but then again who doesn't.

But when I'd wake, that sinking feeling would hit again, would I ever know another poet? Feel that phonological and syntactic brain jive that only a poets rhythm can provive?

Yes - I would!

Hard to say if I found the poetry, or if (more likely) the poetry found me.


First it was my protein bar.
Pea protein, soluble corn fibre. Erythritol.
︎
Then the constellations of my pets shed hair formed a sonnet across my unmade bed.
(too long to write here)


This was good, but still poetry from a protein bar hits different than that of the poet.


I was walking down Sydney Road, zaytoune, zaytoune I love you to the moon. But as always since the divorce, totally devastated. I saw my reflection in a teardrop on my baklava. But that's not all I saw, I saw, or at least what I thought I saw, was a lesbian.

Oh she was lovely.

Next best thing to a poet.


But then I thought - what poetry is to words, surely lesbians are to sexual inclination?
Who yearns more than a poet? A lesbian? Actually, an equal tie.

sharing healthy introspection, inspiration, literally everywhere. and the way they move through the world, well, that's utterly infectious. 

So maybe the poets, maybe they won't come back. But maybe I've found the next best thing.

I went inside the bar, palms first sweaty, then metallic with a cool breeze as I emerged into the courtyard (thriving bougainvillea!)  The pit of my olive rolled gently to the acupuncture point where my top and bottom jaw meet, my dental occlusion (St6, IYKYK). Months of tension, devastation, manipulation, alliteration, melted from first my jaw and then my entire being.

And then a warm embrace. I know that scent anywhere.

Rose, burnt sugar, patchouli, paw paw

I looked up, you wouldn't believe what I saw

Every single poet

Every last one of them

In fact, there were more

~ 

T-shirt story - fan fiction for a t-shirt by Amy P and with help from Laurie,
happy 73rd b-day mum!