one quick breeze has arrived. it skims over the ocean, ruffles the water into peaks that are near-identical. white foam tops the crest before it dissolves, gone in an unseen pattern. on the sand, fish and chip papers rustle.
there's blush pink tinting the sky, glowing across too much space to fathom. a dress is dyed in dark pink which lightens as it dries: it remains unnamed. it's gone light, called blush pink, equal to the sky's tone and all quite by chance.
the stage stands, cold and bare. tonight there are no decorations, no enraptured audience waiting for the performer who waits in the wings. she stands on tiptoe, eyes on the clock of her smartphone, patient and tentative. she's in jeans and a white t-shirt, as dressed down as she can make herself. this is supposed… Continue reading patience
tap. taptap. tap. the world is supposed to be noisy, she knows this. knows it in the way rain patters over the roof and the ocean thirty-seven yards from her bedroom window swishes over the horizon ad infinitum. she understand it, in the way her boots clatter over tile and pavement and linoleum. and she… Continue reading electrical storm
you're grasping at straws, still trying so hard to find your laundry list of faults to correct. you've a tenuous grasp on me, and on balance - you lack the grace to understand: i don't need it. i am not ever your fixer-upper.
you're captivating, they say. what they don't tell you (yet) is how or why. sometimes you think there's a slim chance of getting to know. it doesn't happen. understanding is a game, one played by half the players and won by none.
pohutawaka branches sway over my car, red needles forming a soft carpet all around and sticking incessantly. spring has left, and the summer is winding to its autumnal ending. there's chill in the air in the early morning, trees drooping. the new life of spring eases out with the flush of dullness in… Continue reading branch + spring + new life