As you get closer the trail declines from wheel ruts to track, path to pad paced between grasses, an alignment of sticks, leaves, animal ways then ends — you can’t see it yet.
Continue readingThe edge
poetry
outside…
the Strausian bum bu-baaaam of sunrise
gangs(ta) kookaburras are tee-tee-tee hawing Continue reading
Into the blue (the Tomb of the Diver, 470 BCE)
winter trees incline
a wall disappearing Continue reading
threescore
A piece dedicated to my on-going hand therapy.
And for your pleasure here’s Leonard Cohen going ‘no more a’ rovin’ (lyrics by Lord Byron) from a favourite album Dear Heather.
on this earth
an ancient comb in the Met.
animals parade across an ivory page Continue reading
Sea | Flowers
Down in the channel the tide inhales and
seaflowers fixed in the surge and swirling
rush wave frantic at tenant fish tripping. Continue reading
Slippage (Quadrille)
o my divided soul
astride the tides of time
Continue reading
Floodlands
1.
out of nowhere
a swollen wash of silt and logs Continue reading
fix
— tap (dripping)
— gutter (also) Continue reading
understand
my pain moved in — new to the house but familiar — he strolled down the hall with the swagger of an agent on inspection day, tutting at the artworks, the bourgeois trappings — Continue reading
Peter Frankis writes 