simple to fall in love again
under the wings of eagle mountains
among the crags and ferns
a sprig of heather in our step
as we walk a drover’s path

the Chinese woman
makes Spanish omelette
- lucky cat



                       a willow grows -
                       next to the lake even
                       when I’m not there



                                           after the ducks finish
                                           doves and sparrows come
                                           then rats

I’m waiting for the sky to snap
that crescendo of summer
thunder is a sinner
hiding behind the horizon,
a breeze from the sea
is the sound of leaving birds


when it comes it is an arcing wolf
leviathan voice releases the day into pieces
cadillac flowers unfold
blinding
against the incense wind
wrapping me completely

so here I am
a worm God
dreaming the sky

a fly lands
on my hair
I brush her away

she comes back

the fly
and the worm God
shitting
living
dying

barefoot  
in the park,all the bumps 
of the earth



                              still day
                              the sky is rolling
                              on the lake 




                                               hot pavement -
                                               a dragonfly’s wings
                                               in the breeze

I misplaced all the lines
that draw you
words you might or might not have
said
escape 
because the music of your speaking
is polished pebbles
from a stream
slipping between my palms
in the last light of the afternoon
you are blurred

on the bench is a dying man, staring at his phone. He turns to look at me as I sit next to him. His face is oil on water. He squeezes his eyes against an aubergine sky.

passing train -
please stay behind
the yellow line

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i wish for a little luck
i wish the long thread of time
that billows across my window
didn't remind me
that i haven’t lived for a while

I find myself on a forgotten street, that smells of yesterday. On the corner are two cats.

samurai face off -
eight ghosts
are hanging around


I unsheathe my phone like a katana. The cats stop, look at me. I take a photo.

sharp knives -
the idea of honour
over death

photo: claire thom

words: marc.brimble

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For centuries, horses were the backbone of human labour, powering farms, pulling carriages and supporting industrial activities. The rise of mechanised technology, such as tractors, gradually replaced horses, reshaping economies and societies worldwide.

 

bones of branches

an x-ray, a sketch

 

promise of apricity

a hope, a scent

 

whisper of a forelock

a life, a breath

 

gaze of a witness

a link, a friend

 

story of a land

a map, a trend

 

memory of a shadow

a mirror, a bend

 

twist of a rope

a sigh, a stretch

photo

marc.brimble


words

claire thom

running along the promenade

tripping through tangled nets

I brushed the sand from your face

you washed the salt from the rocks

photo

claire thom

is it still in your eye
that street that languished 
that town a body?

when I think
we could have been a story -
we didn’t even have a premise

all we had was a bundle
of holes for pages
a prologue nobody understood

no regrets though
thinking of your mouth
the cigarettes and the blues

photo

marc.brimble

words

paul david mena