All Posts Categorised "Prose Poem"

“Yet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.” – Virginia Woolf
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  • On Those Days


    On Longing To Be An Automobile

    On those days that I long to be an automobile, I am practising not being judged for the things that I am not. I am not a sliver of smooth quartz in the wild indigene hand. I am not a Warhol nude. A cave‘s gaping silence. Lower altitude. Bluegrass.

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  • Be A Fire


    Come out of youself. Be a fire.

    I stretch, immersed in the scent of dew and fresh day, summer-new and hale, the scent of clarity and rebirth. Everything is opening to light. On the horizon, mauves and butterscotches bleed from the retreating darkness, lilacs and oranges seep like watercolors from the ascending furnace of the sun, and the pastel origins of an azure future gather in number across the sky.

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