Late winter and ducks parade on our roof off key instruments play down each chimney the aged clay pots a fluted wobble of tone while they wait for the youngest to realize the distant brush of brackish view over to the wetlands water seized on crema there must be a fortune to a reason … Continue reading Prayerful of feathers

  I am waiting We were seventeen when you said we’d meet under the clocks at Flinders Street Station, each decade for twenty years I waited for you. Photographed by students, longingly harassed by alms gatherers, still there the third time that other guy, seen by everyone in the woollen monk’s habit morphed out of … Continue reading Under the Flinders Street Clocks

  I am turning left more in the rectangular seduction of streets on the dunes grass trees all knobbly persistence shake a cautionary the belief of footpaths shallow by cracks in their secular metres prise at sanctuary solar streetlights flicker abandon to day fother to a wane a diagonal gesture a shadow of curtsey all … Continue reading flousing the curve