Alison Eastley lives in Australia with her husband, Steve, her son Tom, and his pet ferret, Bob.


'Sometimes at night when he's drunk he hangs
around the street corners or behind doors to scare me to death' - Rimbaud
The trouble with listening to the Devil turn cruelty
into charm is like Vincent on one of his bad days
when he said he was 'blistered with burning' and
this was before he discovered that conjunction
in alchemy simply means between earth and water,
nothing but ash or floating pieces of dust congeal
to black on Saturday at the House of Tolerance,
he asked the prostitute to 'keep this and treasure
it' as he handed her the mutilated crescent moon
of his infamous ear and then he disappeared. 

Yellow and Blue

'to express the love of two lovers by a wedding of complimentary
colors, their minglings and oppositions,...Letter #531, Vincent van Gogh
'You take its smooth substance into your mouth
and it is as if the very darkness of the room
were melting on your tongue', the milky glow
of skin and underneath, deeper than memory's
lackluster pretense there may be intoxication
as acidosis steeps through creases, rumpled sheets
on the bed. I'd like to say your fingernails trace
my spine and your cheek rests against my sleepy
eye, that I try to understand these moments mean
yellow is not simply yellow and blue can be more
than the blue of convoluted constellations,
those saturnine stars predicting how darkly we spin
with or without a complimentary cocoon.
Quote taken from 'In Praise of Shadows' by Tanizaki


The Bust of a Woman Molds Itself Against the Sky

'and our ancestors, forced to live in dark rooms,
presently came to discover beauty in shadows...' Tanizaki
A dark silhouette of a man appears the same way
twilight slowly sips any night so that some mornings
he 'breakfasted on a piece of dry bread and a glass
of beer - that is what Dickens advises for those
on the point of committing suicide'. At other times,
as drunk as lovers believing there is purity on earth,
as stark as limbs illuminated when lightning blisters,
then burns, he'd splash and streak and slide, spit
gobs of paint until both broken and contained,
the surface changed when he tried to explain
how the bust of a woman molds itself against the sky.
Quote taken from Vincent van Gogh