Category: Poetry

Hop-skipping through reptilian roots
your helicopter tail brushes gathered mizzle
from drooping ferns.

This wind-tunnel world
waters the eyes
whilst deep-time, wild sentinels
are tickled by ferns fingers,

When I landed
in the present
the grass was waist-high,
woven with yellow,

Come down,
Every ounce of you is filled with fire
See, through tears
Tattered hands receive you

In the imprint of receded tides
new topographies reveal
replenished pools
of orange stars…