to go home and cook dinner or to sit with my friend this unconcerned shade the netting pyramid covering camembert and Ritz biscuits and finely sliced pickled onion kambucha fridge cold the luxury of a sweating glass kids in eternal natter and splatter occupying the pool she brings out cooling ties for our necks and … Continue reading evening lazies
We walked into Christmas in the slow way that days do when you’re waiting. By five pm on Christmas Eve I could see the drag on my son’s face. I thought this time thing, it needs a new bus driver. Two weeks of crawl and the long long night-light shadows creeping into the hall from … Continue reading Haibun Monday – Celebration
stand gently here, my friend breathe listen after the storm two bottles, half empty produce a haunting song making harmonies like telephones lines tinselled with dripping light they're not entwined like lover trees but see them bathe taking on evening and sky's renaissance purple Written for Mish's dVerse Quadrille #142 (include the word tinsel)
the sun our fair weather friend agreed to an “in-spirit” contract whereby like bottled lemonade his fizz may be captured, flat-packed on roof-tops and then sipped straw-like through wires but some of us prefer, hands in pockets hunting for the gravy of burnt dinosaurs Written for dVerse - Linda's Quadrille prompt "Fair"
suppose you visit me down here you could discard your mirrors in this unlit cascade this fetish of dirt the rub, the writhe segments and soil the dirt and I we are mutually incorporating - in and out the same simple magnificence Written for Sarah's dVerse prompt "Creepies and Crawlies"
I’ve never found a four-leaf clover yet to wave around as evidence of luck; that’s not to say I feel at all bereft. Still, in patches, my hopeful eyes gets stuck. When hairy clouds leave dandruff on clover it glitters – zirconia - but soft and round. The leaves bedazzle - dainty flakes all over … Continue reading Leaving Clover #Novelinee
deep scuba sweep - generous void of undersea gloom down to strangled kelp and coral beaks’ nip. a clam’s stiff lips womp and steal my heart, blows hollow bubbles prismatic nothing ballooning in organ's place. meanwhile in sequestered dark, unforgiving ridges beat at my blood Written for dVerse's Quadrille Prompt "Heart"
crude wooden tripods stand tethered human pendulums swinging amongst fumes and fuming damming politicians and incandescent commuters damming the city’s arteries a timely attack the heart on the hill* bloodless while the body rages taut fists enacting death throes of a planet in need *Australia's Parliament House is commonly referred to as "the house on … Continue reading Extinction Rebellion
August follows from a grey and fearful July – the closed hatch of cities in lock-down. Concrete and buildings hunkered under shifty, flannelette skies. The grime of recycled messages from haggard, mesh-faced leaders. Closed front doors, a stultifying blank. Resentment breeds as fast as the virus itself. Different areas, different rules. Anger like pavement cracks … Continue reading August – Haibun Monday
One night, before I lost my hair, a very dear friend and I had a long online chat which had me in stitches. From picturing myself bald, with a tweed peaked cap and horn-rimmed glasses, we suddenly invented a whole new character - Alpatooti. This mysterious being brought me so much laughter - along with … Continue reading The Roller Ride