A golden shovel for Margaret Atwood quoting Rilke.
Seems I’m not the only one interested in the poetry
of the dead. I know I should let lie – the past is the past.
Zombie
memory
Photo restoration
CONTENT WARNING: This post contains some strong language and concerns domestic violence.
Continue readingArchaeological (Flora AD 79)
she has her back to us
her neck, bare feet mid-stride
house girl / nymph / Primavera / PR goddess
turned to reconsider some old weed Continue reading
The Greenland shark
The old mandarin’s in fruit again. Green nuggets mostly but some are already turning.
The girl is pegging towels into the pull and slap of the Southerly. The wind has dried her hair into a russet frizz. ‘Look at me,’ she says turning her head from side to side, laughing. Continue reading
The river
[this looks much better on my site]
…on the desk the hands are lit.
Men are shuffling their feet,
tidy nails, a ring, a scar across the pinky —
watch hands & listen to the men… Continue reading
Sonnet
Caught in the flux, memories shift again — each turns
an unmade bed. Words rearrange, meanings undone.
