as you grow older and hopefully wiser, there is a red ink pen scribbling notes on your insides – in my heart it reads: ‘this revolution will not be televised’.
lifted, like a veil, a stone – the weight. lifted like the crest on the waves. lifted anonymously without a ritual nor ceremony. lifted away what she thought has become part of ‘me’. lifted and alight, burnt to cinders, an achingly bright red – the colour of the flesh we are never meant to see. … Read more
the sky, like in a fresco looks like an idealised version of itself displaying riddles, azure and mythical alluring us from a distance “fly me” it says oh these arms can barely grasp the basket containing the fruits of the seasons underneath the sky we all are on our knees, we bow to the mysteries. … Read more
Now I find myself in places where I’ve been hiding and not in the places where I’ve been searching.
across the coarse wall I rub my hand to erase your name to make it clear I want it to disappear but as it stands I’ve got blood in my hands. your name is both blurred and somehow highlighted in red. over the years and on the phone your madness sounds muffled and clear. ‘they … Read more
The same flower – still in a state of bloom. And me in a state of wonder.
The Way We Go the way we go about our lives trying out each empty room like houses we might own eavesdropping for clues in corridors until standing at a gate or attic window seeing beauty in a flag of sky we’re gone, leaving the doors open all the lights burning