Rosy-fingered Dawn

This morning I called out to Homer in my early morning slumber, watery eyed wonder: “She was lilac at first, then she yawned with golden thirst. Clouds stretched lazily reflected below in glistening dew. Rooftops bowed in reverence to shining streaks of frankincense. And Mother Earth, how she basked in Dawn’s rose and blue... Why, … Continue reading Rosy-fingered Dawn

Beauty’s Mark

He told me today the less sleep I have the more beautiful I get the more weight in my hands the more delicate I become. Fragile china, floral and thin. A creature, abandoned surrounded by cardboard walls with no airholes. Suffocatingly beautiful.     Photographer: Mark Mook

Weeds

The toxicity of lilies has been pronounced, Deathly infection, base venom  Pulsing through the lily-white skin Filling beautiful people to the brim.  But it was you who once wrote Of direst cruelty And it is with this I charge Mother Nature. My dandelion, pus yellow Scruffy, torn, forlorn in a farcical bed of beauty Wondering … Continue reading Weeds

The Beholder

His dream girls were beautifully inked, Images etched within images, Yet he chose Welcome mats, kitty cats and charity tat. His dream girls were abstract and colourful, Twirling in blues, reds and pinks, Yet he chose Straight lace, translucent face and steady pace. His dream girls were confident, Staring straight down the lens, Yet he … Continue reading The Beholder