A short duology of poetry.

There is a peculiar loneliness that springs from a lack of experience, from vicarious living through screens and dreams.

Reflecting on the Redfern Run.

An annotated proposal for a manuscript, centred around ten provided prompts

We have had a surprisingly decent mandarin season this year.

For most of my life, August was Summer’s eleventh hour.

"My love was from places of Tiny People."

"My mother and I both have our own ideal gardens."

"I seek the totality of the Blue Dragon."

Does unexplained transformation, metaphorical or otherwise, count as an illness or as misadventure?