Tourist Without a Dictionary Beneath every mountain is a map flung but unsung by ravensong or the witchcraft of breeze-saying. When we walk, breath coarse as ice flow from this snow-crusted air, I stop on thigh-sore’s pitch and turn to the view. There it is, the sprawl of our city, roof-tumble and tree toss and … Continue reading Twiglet #290
The girl with polka dotted wellies is shin deep in garden cavorting in a pine bark sea because under the tip, flip, drizzling it’s a four inch day. My plastic tablecloth billows and the carpark's running downhill - gravel rush and mud skin... and there’s the bob-gloss of umbrellas and a three foot leap with … Continue reading Four Inch Day
Image by John Crozier Rush Hour 6pm crowds into the station // wasps to a nest // huddle of bodies // brunt-warm the smell // stressed rubber undertoned by grease // noise of rushing, crushing wind the black tunnel breathes rails hum and wheels screech // “please stand behind the yellow line” // the PA … Continue reading Visual Verse Anthology
Feeling stupid after an email conversation, I go out to exercise the dog. The oval lies over-sheened with western sun. Light billows like a sheet, particulate and all-pervasive until I shade my eyes. The dog scoots, mostly ignoring the ball which I throw for my own exercise, walking on and to pick it up and … Continue reading Warp & Weft
You caught me stealing at dusk limes from our neighbour’s tree; they were yellow and cold. but you with your lilac smile you dangled, fishing-line easy pilfering light from a company of unrisen stars. I ducked inside cheeks pink as the froth of clouds but you smarmied on, shameless as Fagan It's little consolation knowing … Continue reading Slaves of Citrus
"Thunder Eggs" from an extinct volcano west of Rockhampton, Queensland. We fossicked for them ourselves.
Even although Einstein has been living outside for around 6 weeks now and is fairly well integrated with the rest of the flock, he/she still comes to the window occasionally at dusk to see if we'll let him/her sleep inside again.
in the dream my watch always gets water in it the blurred face like tears at breakfast and the dining table clatter of guilt until I wake breathing out the feeling