Two Spheres
Two Spheres
It ends, as it began
A final, crisp, cut-glass coat
On grass and branch and leaf
Cold sky and burning sun conspire
A frosted fire, and beneath, the ground
Once
Jon Collins
Word weaver, song singer, pattern whisperer, baker and candlestick maker.
What you know
Write about what you know, they said. What, I thought- my childhood? That continuum of non- descript non-events that somehow went to define me? Of solitary walks to school, collecting Smurf stickers
Solitude
Solitude
Solitude, rushing in like the sea, pushing into every space, overwhelming, changing the level of place between what can be breathed and what now lies, submerged, beneath the wave-licked ebb and
The Armed Man
This "come and sing" session was delightful, albeit a bit discomfiting due to the lack of tenors and my close proximity to the Kings Singer who was running it. I apologised
The doorway in my mind is a metaphor
The doorway in my mind is a metaphor
The doorway in my mind is a metaphor
The long street that winds, and vanishes
Into the mist, a question still unanswered
From childhood—or