From A Rippled Plank Of Wood
Yours. Mine.
Tag: writing
For The Lady In The Dulcet-Hued Bandana
The wisps of orange marshal light amidst the blue.
A Sonnet On The Surface Of My Coffee
Now sparse the signs of entropied life sit, floating despite th’impossibility.
A Flow’r Upon A Grave
Shape ‘n send forw’d the currents riv’ring by! With your time-warped scraps the bed doth lie suffused!
The Voice That Searched My Memories: extracts from The Floating Harbour
Now riddle it with chaos: muddied fury lit by mob-borne flame.
This Room, This City, This World: extracts from The Floating Harbour
“Change is the only thing. It’s the only thing there is.”
That Way, For Him, Adventure Lies: extracts from The Floating Harbour
The seagulls, too: they screech in semi-reliably recorded history.
william altoft 