Day 109
Yesterday seemed incomplete somehow. I even started writing a poem about it but it petered out in the sand, and with my attention distracted by a TV programme about home… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
Yesterday seemed incomplete somehow. I even started writing a poem about it but it petered out in the sand, and with my attention distracted by a TV programme about home… Continue Reading
I have lost the moon. It was here yesterday, and now it’s gone. They will say ‘How can God misplace the moon?’ But I am not God. I am no… Continue Reading
old light seeps in through tiny rents in the bubble of a universe shrouded in untouchable frost night is a dark ravage unlit by an unseen sun below the horizon… Continue Reading
end-of-summer webs woven against the walland the cloud an ovaryacross the moonswaysthe evening stillcoolbreath standingin the vacuum life as slow as lifeand faster than lightthe cosmoswe are the cosmos we… Continue Reading
Back here, in real life, half-term over, and in the last week of February. One sixth of this year gone already, and Christmas still not fully digested, nor finances recovered…. Continue Reading