Image by C Coles Phillips (1880-1927) (Like Mother's own sails she's cinched and stayed) It's early, driftwood quiet except for waters' lazy slap Far off, through pearly haze she knows the summer harbour its busy stone window and the framing stench of fish. But here, there's the pleasure of an empty deck the sky blue … Continue reading Blue Morning
she said: "journalism is an omlette broken eggs and the mothering dreams of cows" "social media fry-up" he objected graphite eyes among candles "truth is cartilage the bend makes us beautiful" merlot flame in glasses glowed his stone her fire and the blackening between Written for De Jackson's dVerse Quadrille Monday #137 - "Stone"
(Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here") oil - sinewed rainbows rafted up to swirl and giggle riding high on the nausea of a fatty sea your blood’s dark swig sucked and spat your prehistoric core birds in Brylcreme slicked sick I hear them weeping yet I sleep on bubbled in glass so far away … Continue reading Two Lost Souls Swimming in a Fish Bowl
Written for Miz Quickly's October 3 Prompt (Sadistic Laughter from the Rabbit) composition 1 this door, with nose and eyes slams silently, and her the letterbox with silent space for communication; her need drips off him, the puddle staining the carpet around his chair composition 2 banana slices in her breakfast the round soft shock … Continue reading Abstraction #Miz Quickly
Gueorgui Pinkhassov, NYT Magazine Sept 2021 The girl has red hair, sheet fine and flickable and red shoes, Dorothy shoes, with laces and legs that mean dancing smooth and strong. The boy has a football, not a soccer ball one of those egg-shaped ones that flip flop, like ducks’ tails side to side, flip flop, … Continue reading Dragon Rich
Like the moon how its blushless circle turns sun’s dread glare back in silver wonder… so watch the papadam grow proud against slam fisted heat. Written for msjadeli's dVerse Open Link Night #293 prompt. (Belated) Edited 3/10/21
September ended with a midnight storm. I lay and listened to the sky tear itself with the angry shear of cotton sheets and the rain chorus mixing solo ticks with the great and beautiful roar of a million life affirming voices I love September although spring brings the anxiety of summer. I love the blossoms, … Continue reading September Summary
(i) I finished in a thunderstorm the radar map a pulsing mould of blues and greens and reds The tired nurses wished me well as they tended to other patients and I walked out a sort of era trailing behind me like a walked through puddle (ii) Two wet bike tracks and paw prints in … Continue reading September 30
The sun sits in leaky splendour; watermelon juice staining this upholstery this smog brown décor this Faberge sunset this velveteen smoke haze. A cloying choice but here we all sit in our plush living room our shrine of consecrated ignorance and listen to the clock and the crackle roar of our future. Written for Misky's … Continue reading The Place We Live
From this paddock (which peters out in trackless bush) I can see my grandma’s pool gleaming pink as the nonchalant blood-let sky Around me, adults murmur theories “She might’ve gone off to die” Blackberries: their Tally-Ho tangle, this rolling hedge - a menacing dark secured beneath. And I peer in, looking for that different brushed … Continue reading Sassy
