Wilding
When the beloved turns his face away and his sister gives you kind smiles. When you feel yourself slipping into loss and longing for what never could be. When you have paused for the day in a wilderness by the sea — an aching roll [...]
She of the Green Bough
I. I am the golden light unfolding, holding the first seed of becoming. I am the green bough unraveled, the curves of flesh that blur Into the trunks of trees, and my hair Is tangled in the forest's weave. Stars have fallen all around me, [...]
OF SCARLET TONGUES
If I were a poet, I would balance each word upon the many scarlet tongues of the bottle brush: suspended between sunlight and shade, and sipped by stripe-bellied honeyeaters with perfectly pointed beaks. If I were a poet, I would lay down my empty page [...]