The House at No. 3

Seventeen years ago a roar engulfed the singing pines - countless breaths exhaling the needle sting of smoke. They stood in shredded funeral garb flinging glowing ember flowers onto us below. They witnessed our syncopated falling and the operatic scream of twisting steel, the cymbal crash of exploding windows. We knelt prostrate before the fire … Continue reading The House at No. 3

Australia’s Summer

I cannot forget your steely-white glare; the too-hot press of you against my skin. My body contracted until cracks appeared. Plants wilted, waterholes sucked in and my body fissured abandoned to exuberant wind and the angry roar of carbon-crazed dragons. The smoke rolled over us all like hell's too-slow envoy. Before it, a syndicate of … Continue reading Australia’s Summer

While Children Play on a Tyre Swing…

This spring the green is wild, profuse and supreme, exotic and extant - the white cane chair left on the lawn seems to float in clovery billows. Over a mower's roar and the whispered conspiracy of the wind, the children's voices are cheerfully elemental like the clatter of rain. Painted shadows tangle, restless and involuntary; … Continue reading While Children Play on a Tyre Swing…

Purple Flowers are The Future

Some people become famous through being extraordinary. Some people become extraordinary through being famous. We ordinary folk are like the grass in the lawn sort of invisible because of the flowers and yet essential to the overall feel of the garden. We are maintained through mass techniques (eg lawnmowers & sprinklers) where as the flowers … Continue reading Purple Flowers are The Future