singsorrow

Today I forgot my reply, and left a moment hanging between spider-web strings, sticking. Tell me, why is this ground aching like a bee-stung arm? Why is my bed writhing like a scared millipede? Dragonfly, shed your ever-changing colours and make up your mind. So iridescent, so attractive but you buzz by so fast that we don't try to catch you. There was a noise in the hallway last Saturday morning, very early, of someone racing to a patient doorway.

1. even hotter, summer fires cut power 2. fried eggs - my bare feet on concrete 3. sun bleached sky, clouds blend seamlessly 4. sailor's sky, bloody sight - warning? delight? 5. open window, wind blows summer into air-cooler 6. walk to school - new shoes are torture 7. unfortunate spot, cat asleep before armchair 8. walk-to-school track after holidays weeds 9. seeing double moon-image on metal 10. streelights at war with stars 11. chocolate sky, teeth gritty with dust 12. smoky haze, bushfires across the border 13. glass shards - rocks crowd windowsill 14. throbbing an ant bite travels 1

July 1 Smouldering earth, black galahs under powerlines. July 2 Little fingers hold invisible cigarettes - misty morning. July 3 Stormy beach - forgotten towels are useless. July 4 Sparrow footprints - snowflakes scatter the dirt. July 5 Falling leaves and the humming of chain-saws. July 6 Old man buying medication for side-effects. July 7 Umbrella pathway, here you can walk dry without carrying your own. July 8 People are clapping, cheering and shouting because one person started. July 9 Those berry ice-blocks, remnants of older boxes moved to new boxes. July 10 Cedar tree - cut back to its base growing

There is an end to every earth where the black rifts gorge upon the waterfalls of ending life. No one wants to be the next to fall. I'll see you on the other side, the Mother's womb. Birthed by nature, born of lust and sinful dust. Phoenix from the ashes.

My true colours were larval, when I was only concerned with laughter. No longer will I possess the personality of a dragonfly's back, iridescent colours changing every moment. Forget looking perfect. Only when the makeup congregates in the creases of my eyelids will I be seeing perfect.

It's going to be hot today - I can feel the sunlight biting at my cheekbones and I feel deceived by low-lying clouds that rose too early. But when I feel last night in the grass, brushing against by calves, I welcome April.

His fingernails are shovels used to excavate the airways.

Cigarette smoke is a breath of fresh air in the city where plants, processing the pollution fall into a premature autumn. And there's black tar in the bay: fish rotting on the waves are picturesque in the city.

In the silence of the night there is nothing I can see. Though stars pierce the blackness, like me, they are far away. There is nothing I can see - the sun is hiding somewhere cold, but though there seems to be no light inside there must be something. Though stars pierce the blackness their light is dim and insignificant and if I continue walking this road I'll end up hurting worse, somehow. Like me, they are far away I am little but an empty shell. I only wish I could feel, long ago you stealing all the life from me.

   The last dregs of day were slowly draining over Widowsvale, throwing the mansion on its outskirts into complete shadow. Its black silhouette loomed over the town as a young lady hobbled up its driveway, a man following close by.    "It's bigger than I remember," said the lady, gazing up at the house.    "Well, your parents were never ones for the simple life," laughed the man.    "I know," she whispered "but it's good to be back."    The man had walked her up the front stairs of the mansion, and then, after she assured him she was ok, he had kissed her and left. She