Pumping water. Motor sounds across the drying river. Rustic images of a cottage with no town water

Dearly beloved body that encases me, animates me, is me, as a matter of fact, thank you for being.

So you walk up this morning street… in the pub at this unearthly hour. Fourth smoke in about thirty minu… ‘coz you’re afraid. Afraid of the people,

My glassy presence in the night light is alone . . . talking to me. At me.

What road are we travelling? What road do we wish to be on? Is this the road to heaven, passing through the Valley of Dea… or the road to hell with the desti…

I saw your response to my post on… because my phone dinged as I was w… under the trees in the cool of the… Thankyou for that response that sh… at me from a square of capitalised…

The morning brings the cockatoos clicking and clattering on the rai… waiting for the morning feed, eyeing off the company, non-human, just birds. Light yellow crowns

Blessèd be the better days and the bitter ones that outline t… In an entirely non-Biblical fashi… blessèd be the bees that buzz and… frantically flitting from flower t…

I’m surrounded by the little gods: the gods of grey days who breathe… keep us at dew point, push us beyo… into a spritz or rain, and further… who sometimes leave the scene at t…

Sly the Sullen Troll sat by the d… that was his bed, under the bridge… and sighed. He stared at his lonel… since he was alone with no friends… since they left when he took a lov…

Barnaby sat glowering like a salt… in the parliament this afternoon. Success with schooners at lunch and an unscripted moment in which he said “Grayndler” five…

The Valley of the Shadow of Deat… travels through the streets of my… bringing in with it the refugees, the sinners and saints of flotsam. It’s filled with meth heads and ju…

Look at you now a desperado in a desperate world huddling under the blanket of delusion. The road you always thought would…

The last night train is a silver a… on the bridge, flickering in the l… of the city then disappearing into the suburbs, the countryside, rocking and rattling up the mounta…

As we approach the hill we can smell the salt water alread… imagine the sand, coloured like li… twinkling in the sun. We can just hear the surf,