Dead leaves
Sometimes I dream of of being carcass, corpse, remains Sometimes I dream of dancing with the dead. Sometimes I dream of blood and bones; decay and rot; of being none […]
Sometimes I dream of of being carcass, corpse, remains Sometimes I dream of dancing with the dead. Sometimes I dream of blood and bones; decay and rot; of being none […]
My dreams are thieves, strange and strained they trespass, sneak on plimsoll soles at night. My dreams are knives and satin, a morning sated, they are odd solutions infinitely non-convergent. […]
Afterwards – when only thorns remain when leaves have left and sap been sucked. With fingers pricked, you still recall, perfumed the summer rose of youth. Before the withered rot […]
Whispered voices somniloquy tethered breath. Goddess blessed Godiva-dressed she’s pillowed tress-caressed dreaming softly screaming. Darkly passing clouds across the moon, as I wait for dawn and her. — Linked to […]
One Hundred Thirty Three These beans, to be, I’m Jack and talk for stalks Fee-fi-fo-fum One Hundred Thirty Four and smell the blood of british man for goose that lay […]
practising for a whole life
dancing with my muse
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Now we see through a glass, darkly
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.