Mum and Dad

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Crackling Leaves and Soup

  My father is here to entice art from the sky, his instrument of choice, a sort of…. musical obscurity, an ancient  silver rising of voices and tide. He swings a racket to capture dreams, and earths them ….. like lightening, crackling leaves and soup. He is a lover of marmalade bitter and orange and his smile you ask

Sweet Me

    Finding the sweet me is a forever journey a soul trip to inner space amongst the mist worlds that exist ed before I could think When my heart was  jupiter and you my mother my father my feathered gods that swung me left and right up up missing the fan blades instilling a

Cider and Stars

My father’s teaching house was a wonderful, leaning thing, thick with toxic fumes and creativity. My school next door, however, an imposing beast. A glutton for unhappy children and alcoholic ladies, with red front teeth and spanking on their minds… After school dust followed me everywhere, sticking like an Australian summer. My mind already in Dad’s art-house,

Sand and Feathers

Feet and art make I (n) den tati on the earth the heart is large and deep thinking the hull, buoyant and safe the smile sometimes steel sometimes butter squeezes  in between words like itatoron do flying fish have feathers ? Owls tell me father’s secret his love is not hollow noise but like air

Something More Than Mediocre

Push dangle wringle wrangle Fiddle squish make a wish……………….. Little joker great Heyokah something more than mediocre. Come here, go away walk slower, run faster fuck you zen master! 101 ways to trust you love you thankyou Find it in the dictionary under ’Rufus round and  round.’ Sylvester’s magic pebble his Father finally found His mother