Seven weeks of hiding and the earth breaths relief...
Seasons of storms angered colour coded weather battered shores stoned shifting sands reappear disappear the worst on record the likes never seen before the land too sodden then cracked and hardened baked crust cracking the temperatures are rising.
Harvest an immigrant toil and the natives are restless no goals to celebrate gasping for a social pint the torture of comfort as we yearn for avocado toast while the waters clear we are blinded by consumption clear air remains invisible failing to see our salvation path.
... and the earth is broken but we’re too privileged to fix it.
My form beneath hardened blackreticulate limbs joined in purpose stability in the pores of the earththe unseen strength of surviving. Storms rock and leave […]
Obtuse triangle of sunlight captures the worktop corner dull browns and murky beigebecome golden illuminationsthe dull veneer of fake stonetransformed into a […]