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?