Plant a seed and germinatea conversation,if not forgiveness.
I travel, oftenwith the hope that the white lines would one day realignand finally point the way home.
Paddle in the calm,while the sun hails and halosfrom afar, giftingits near-eternal charms.
The clock says 2 a.m. and the horizon is bereftof its gleaming radiance, its pearly lassitude.The moon is conspicuously absent…
We listenedto the tick of a dream-fed engine cool, while the day painted itself into the palette of the…
Blonde, but my roots still show,backcombed, teased and splitlike my growth, scissored and undercut.
Tension here, on knees and haunches;an arched vertex,bending backwards
The beach was quiet today.
The tourists have all gonea-shy, their bronze limbsdressedfor dimmer times…
I see us below.
We weresheepshank-tied with coloured ribbons,fingers unable to untangle the burdened sun…