￼ It’s a big, wide world out there to those who feel small. Every tree conceals shadows, every puddle a skin to the world below. We fear and tremble, defer and divide, when what we really ought is wonder. Let us not forget, the flower to the insect is as a sun to us, yet […]
The distant church bells Making unfamiliar sounds In the midnight hours
Flicker behind the eye Abrasion, scale on cornea I feel you Gritted desert beckons Sirocco breeze hissing I hear you Fingertips pressed together Dry, not slimy with sweat I touch you Audible, visible, tactual The serpent I seek Is me
I loved how the streetlights reflected off the stream's rippling surface as though all the world's colours flowed to some rainbow ocean whilst others slept. Most people thought the bridge just spanned a dirty ditch full of shopping trolleys and discarded food packets. Not me, I could've stood there forever.
Spilled milk or a displaced ghost?
You peel back the curtain To a bitter, winter’s day. You see a long drive, Wet feet, lots of coffee. The child at your knee Fingers gripping, breath catching, Sees white magic. It’s all in the eye.