Dirty Light
The Earth tries to sleep, casting off the shadows of a distant star beneath the tattered veil of greying night. Behind thinning eyelids the atmosphere
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
The Earth tries to sleep, casting off the shadows of a distant star beneath the tattered veil of greying night. Behind thinning eyelids the atmosphere
The scars of past assaults lie scattered on the shore. The force of every blow etched into the earth with the relentlessness of your approach;
Cascading carelessly past weathered ore you slither into view against the leveeās edge. Sparkling waters that blister in the warming sun, their see-through hues a
Flitting between skyscapes the distant strains of multitudes flicker in the air. Hidden voices perched in ebbing hues that fade into the greys. Their covert
Bumbling in the breeze, your banded body drifts casually into view. Flower waker, pollinator. Every lacy step a careful caress across the countless faces of
Buoyant skies linger overhead, bulging at the seams with surging intent; capricious threats that fall indiscriminately against the statistical fortitude of our modelled routines. Searching
Falling seas break your skin, fabricated fractures feeding flareups with deferred certainties that linger in the tuff. Wearing welts like a crown, you proudly pronounce
Perched below the tree line twisted tones emerge, groves of crooked wood that buckle at the knee. Lodgepole seedlings scatter through sunlight, drifting over seas
Swapping Geigers for scales we sweep the landscape for leftovers, searching for residue that clings to the surface like scalded shadows. Slithering vicariously across the
Glassy eyes stare down from vibrant yellow crowns, solemn statues lined up for shady shopping trips to markets masked with colour. Wild or caught traded