shiloh-harmittWhisper

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Child PlayWe converse / no, we toy with conversation / each word a building block of sentences
16
Oct 10, 2013
Modus Operandi for an Aging PoetSo, you've had gonorrhoea, taken LSD, got lost in Paris and slept with your brother's wife. And now you want to write, to cannonise the unspeakable shame that taunts you. Like breaking wind in a confined space you want attention. You like the vanity of writing, leaving traces of yourself against a tree trunk, the thrill of not knowing who might sniff you out. It must take a certain guile to resurrect the lives of others with no apology or footnote. Life is too short you say. I say: sod the lot who cares what you've got to say, writing is the penis extension you have longed for.
8
Oct 10, 2013
Gap YearAs the earth goes round as a carousel / and you find yourself sliding from one wave to the next; / the lumbering seesaw ride between valley and mountain.
7
Oct 10, 2013
Coloured*Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is a painting that is felt rather than seen / - Leonardo da Vinci* / Life stilled, tiny pixels of a stolen moment
13
Oct 25, 2012
Lovers RockIt's the way you flow: / your hips tethered to the beat / as a kite allured by the wind,
12
Nov 28, 2011
My Envy of Breast Feeding*Touch offers the deepest clue to the mystery of encounter, awakening and belonging.* / John O'Donohue / Child grips the nipple
14
Nov 10, 2011
IntimacyPigments of light / draw me to the surface as air / rippled against my skin beckons a
23
Nov 8, 2011
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