Here is Barbara Fountain
She is a culture shock
Moderately over-easy like many other breakfast flings
She slings the magazine away
And leaves the coffee, standing cold and objectionable
Then she exits the building
Rocking and rolling
Hippity hopping
Skitting … Read the rest
“Are you there, my friend? Are you around the place, sitting?”
Benbo growls, all caustic off his face.
Hungry and willing.
A wasted guy, a desperate cause.
Catch him. Keep him.
Despite his obvious flaws.
“Are you there? Is there … Read the rest
When it gets hot, I will remember the mornings
Crunching November, precisely frosted
Skating the puddles without a worry.
I will cope by wanting to leave a glint
I will walk to the beach to look back
And swim, fatty … Read the rest
Dread, dread, dread. The forest is dark and full of autumn, chewed over by winter frosts and snows. There is a crunch to it as the sun sets behind the traveller making her way up the mountainside to the refuge … Read the rest
Beyond the peace that flowed from her rest
Is an early morning room, with her eyes open,
Looking up into the tepid sunlight directly above her face.
A cold place, an ocean of calm, wretched wrecking pain.
She left … Read the rest
This morning I was listening to the radio. Rosie Ayliffe, the mother of murdered British backpacker, Mia Ayliffe-Chung, was speaking about her daughter. Specifically she was speaking about seeing her daughter in the morgue. She then went on to speak … Read the rest
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