Nowhere Man

my feet are lighter than water

and skin

a warm but repetitive thing

gouache spreads, I am riding this light

a dynamic cellular beating lifts and a rush of wing feeds the air

I am the nowhere man

holding the gold with certain eyes, willing the contrast

striking the wrist and peeling the flesh….

kneading morbid thought in silver fists


pulling grass with smiling ivory

cracking twigs and ribs


in the desert

in the centre of coral

in the midst of leaking heat

my feet

are lighter

than water


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Your Famous Skin

The Eucalyptic matrix penetrates

drawing forth with curling vapour

a landscape

a kaleidoscope,

my gaze is locked and I am a rocket.

Heaven palms my heart

this angelic celebrity of colour,

paved in golden birthing and now,

this skin, that folds and cups our soles

adorned with tiny birds and diamonds.

My mouth widens and I fall back into stars

swallowing eternity

sweeping in all that is

and clothing me



famous skin


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the glow


the glow

you wash me


the green

that creates your eyes

and through this secret window

in virtual reality

becomes my body

a teasing display




naked from the waist down,

throwing gems like a potter,

a world of spinning rainbows,

plucking a single colour


beneath breathing skin

branching out

in a forest flooded

with words









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The Curling Things


It is the curling things that encourage me

to move the perfect symmetry

the fibonacci

of chaos that licks me on the inside

and spurs me into action

It is the hardness that looks soft

and the elongation of rational thought

I am bound to the unravelling of design

I am clung

and sticking like

feathers to a bird

I am moving like honey

struggling to stay

glued to the spoon

I am the tip of a shell

spiralling like ice-cream to the limitless blue dome


the illusion of seeking

the stability of air

we are what we see and  my heart is breathing


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the narcissist

my face is moving crystal, my fearless mind
the blinking, starry eyes
of night
fish tunnelling toward me, hearts beating faster than fins
I throw this crown back
my wicked hysteria, my vision of flipping pages and baubles,
trumpets and bubbles and cheeky animals in fabric and shoes
come my way
baring smiles
roses and knickers in thorny tangles
ready to sail this beguiling, transparent canvas …
all this outrageous peddling
this steaming perpetuation
this shimmy of stimulation
oh specialness
what an envious concept
easily crushed into spitballs of starving imagination
winking blindly at me in this
extraordinary beautiful
free will world

All That Is


in my

tiny mind

my pin star brain

my little bitty light box

my carbon printing machine

here on this grassy knoll

I know my pencil is dirt

and YES

I am only bones and orange polka dots

but I see an


There is no good or evil, left or right, up or down, war or peace

go_d and d_evil

are but one

and all else is fable unfolding

like sun soaked sheets on my large soft bed

I can not say I worship All That Is

unless ~  I  ~ understand the fragrance of the glory

unless I know my knees are wrapped in love

All That Is is ALL that is

and that is all there is





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there is a wave inside my body

a heated flank

a slow tsunami

pulling upward like tongue

or soul

sliding my notes

taking my wounds….

it follows a soothing

determined path

a pink wash sweeping

a dark pink purpose,

it loosens me

it releases me

I glide like wings

melting floss


a rush