At first, the pressure, like thumbs into eyeballs. Later softness; pace slowing, the releasing of rules.

Grass Green is an itchy colour, a trickster. It won’t come politely to your side, always there, beyond noticing some days but in the...

Brimming. Rim full. you never know what tension holds the whole.

The fields stretch out and suggest no path. receiving you, they spread your silence across their green.

I am not my State. skin-state porous, mindscape particulate lost and [con]fused in this crowd looking at the ground when they shout...

Thrown. Rolling, an over and over, wide eyes now heavenward, now intimate with the mud. A freedom of chipped edges, and the finality of...

In half light, a lurch, a pull of tide through shingle, trawling for the story of my belonging here in this room.

Often i am standing with Bruno Ganz, sometimes i drink coffee with Peter Falk. desire is kept in the breast feathers.

My branches reach up through your branches. Symbiotic, the wind rocks something deep within us both.

Water speaks to land We are compatriots. I stream in your bed We are held by each other Swelling grooving in rhythm You know I ask for...

And be still enough To catch the room settle back And not mind you. Stay long enough For the traversing light to resume.