WHITE LIES

  What if I admitted to you, here and now, before I even begin, before I even let you in, that all I am about to tell you is a lie, perhaps white, perhaps a depth darker. What if I lay it all on the line, here and now, naked, the truth of all the […]

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SHADES OF BLUE

  I hear you calling in shades of blue from within a distance my arm’s reach can never cover. I hear you calling in shades of blue, your concern comes in currents across the continents, in those cold corners when I question creation and my position within it. I hear you calling in shades of […]

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ORANGE COLOURED SKIRTS

  ‘And there can be days like this,’ and the boy smiled and sausages swam past him in shorts and shades and in the sky dogs with Madonna mikes flew over kittens in orange coloured skirts and Beyoncé in their boogie. ‘And there can be days like this,’ his mother said as she painted pictures […]

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CRIMSON CONSIDERATIONS ON CARRIAGES KISSING

  A curious crimson caressed his cheek as we crossed the carriage, no winding words, no exchange of the extraordinary, only that crimson kiss of curiosity that blushed upon cheek and burnt into my hunger long hostage to painfully pale and drained out drought, before pressing passengers pushed me forward and him too far behind… […]

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GRAZING GREENS

  I set down upon your shores, those grazing greens of my childhood memory displaced as tears rained over the darkness of your sleeping fields, once seeping with humble hope, once filled with a fine blood even famine could not blight, now flooded with a feeling of regret or relief, too dark to tell, too […]

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THE BLACK OF NIGHT

  See, he says to the child by his side, see how the water rises. Wait, he says to the child by his side, to see how life surprises. Dark, he says, is the black of night, the stars too far to enlighten. But day, he says to the child in his wake, brings a […]

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PURPLE CLOUDS

  In that garden of the many meadows of my mind plants grow down from purple clouds carved of cotton catchable candy and seek substance from the surface and not the ceiling. In that garden of the many meadows of my mind fences are painted with faces familiar and mouths to catch kisses if you’re […]

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