All articles filed in imagination

sometimes i see you sitting there smiling secretly to yourself and i wonder what’s so funny like i wonder what colour your eyes actually are i can’t look too closely — you might catch me and ask ‘what are you doing, scamp?’ and i’d say ‘brownie, i hardly know, myself’ — only i couldn’t say…

breathe                                                                             slip beneath the surface                                  slowly                                                                                            sinking                 sailing                                                                                                         fading under the grass              into earth                                                         silence                                                                                   rich                 deep              dark              ancient   swimming through soil                                                                                                 stroke by                                                                                                 stroke by                                                                                                                                                                       stroke   world under world within world                                                                                                    matter  anti  matter                                                     dancing dirges                                                                                                                 in the gloom of…

i wonder how it feels to be a tree and have squirrels chasing through your fingers and arms and hair or know that owls are nesting, burrowing somewhere deep within your rib cage; ants and insects performing minute acupuncture on gnarled skin; raucous woodpeckers digging to china through the bone

a muteable feast in the moveable east hemingway herringbone lathered with yeast — a forlorn cigar at the mineral bar bob-nosed and dewey-eyed feathered with tar — a harlequin row on the back of a crow pocket-sized pantagruel stealing the show — whimsies for sale at the cost of a nail with bookstalls and falderal…

he was telling his girl that he just wanted to get to know her only it was more like shouting or groaning than crooning he swore that he wasn’t the person he’d been before which had to be awkward for her to a certain extent my dear boy, i wanted to say, you need some…

what are you hiding, little troll your green eyes so dark and serious seldom you speak in your soft, low voice and i thought i was shy don’t burrow beneath my dry, dead leaves you’ll muss your barkbrown hair why are you hiding, little troll — are you even really over there?

wearing no shoes i walk silently through the dew-kissed grass at twilight glimmering tears briefly illumined by the smoldering embers of sunlight myst’ries unsolved and earthy dim images floating before me in half-light love’s labour found in the rain and the fog pierced by glowing white starlight at peace with dreams i watch between a…