Art, poetry, digital art, photography, criticism and essays.

10 Oct 2006


hypnotic icing
he was carving by the pool
changed to ahypnotic puddle
pale beside the pool
his hands were scratched
by his bright chisel
by his knife
I watched the episode
an afternoon with sunlight
and dismissive new vibrations
kin to shapely rest
distinct from still-all-night
preceding fever we were cast in
blue gray diamonds
we were salt alone
we were our privileged children
who would hide like ducks
beside canal at naptime
where I walked while thinking
of the man who bled the soul
from ice his quick eye
and the change from solid
to a diminution
scrapily the audio went
furious not furtive
while I watched


  • At 1:05 am , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    This is absolutely fantastic. Really, brillant.

  • At 3:21 pm , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    And another comment: I adore experimental writing and the more I read this piece it grows on me. The line about being salt is amazing; so individual. Lovely.

  • At 7:22 am , Blogger Sheila Murphy said...

    I am very grateful for your response. Welcome and very seriously taken - thank you.


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