Between your eyes

 

Samotraki Fire 3

Your eyes burned,

Into my flesh.

Mine into yours.

There you were,

Between my eyes.

My lips burned,

With kisses  of fire.

There you were,

My desire.

 

 

 

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Stream of Consciousness

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Where does the river go?

She mused on life.

Such ripe beginnings to tempt the mouth,

The belly full with fecund growth.

The soul divided by love and hope.

The divine incarnate, the ebb and flow.

When to stay and where to go.

She wandered along the humid banks,

Immersed in silent gratitude,

The sky white-faced,

The sun wore grey.

Long leaves simply watched,

And she went away.

The Rush

TheRush(sm)

I have no idea if the French Consulate will approve my long-stay visa, apart from an inkling that the rendezvous was positive. In a reckless sort of way, I’ve been preparing to leave anyway. At least for three months. If my application pleases the administration I’m off for a year, with the option to renew. Holy shit! there’s a mountain of ends to tie off.

Being a visual artist is heart-poundingly beautiful. I spend my days soaking up images then pouring my passion onto canvas, computers and sketchbooks. I get to run around in the forest, chase clouds down the coast and occasionally throw my clothes to the wind. But there are some drawbacks. Stuff. The walls are disappearing behind mountains of artwork. Fortunately my housemates are tolerant.

I was dreaming up possibilities for art shows when there was a loud knock at the door. I assumed it was another parcel for New Housemate but the floppy plastic envelope looked oddly familiar. It was only a week since my interview in Sydney and I expected to wait two months. Was this a quick refusal or the long-awaited ticket to Europe? I opened it up… and I haven’t stopped smiling!

PS I really do need to move my paintings. Stay tuned.