Tag: stillness
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Basement Level Two
I walk through hard light and fractured shadows. My footsteps echo before the drone absorbs them.
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Storm Season
A short update on the recent weather, the direction of the work, and what’s next for counter/field.
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The Last Bus
A late-night scene near a bus stop changes when a person walks through a pool of light and stops in shadow. The insects fall silent, the breeze stills, and the speaker waits as the moment deepens. A poem about night, attention, and the subtle shift from calm to unease.
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November Notes: A descent
It’s been a while since the last big update and quite a lot has changed. First off, you may have noticed that the site is looking visually cleaner; I’ve made sure that each poem has an image and the page format is now symmetrical—it was looking a bit jagged before. I’ve also done a bit…
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West End Tryptych
Three scenes from the West End — civility, voltage, and quiet composure. A study in how public voices shift tone as the listener withdraws.
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The Ferry and the Tree
Past that, the twin diesels rev hard; the boat surges and a boy appears, running in a green Raiders shirt and yellow Crocs that gleam in the sunlight. I laugh, then stop, and return to silence.
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Field Notes between Storms
If you enjoyed ‘After the Storm’, you might like Day-Possum, Morning River Notes, or A Tiny Deity. They all involve observation and a positive emotional turn. Here’s something I wrote as a craft exercise: a poem in two sentences. … Goanna This afternoon, a goanna ambled toward me, tongue tasting the air between us—all the…
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After the Storm
A poem set in the afternoon heat, where humidity climbs and the sky darkens. A bank of pewter cloud muscles across the horizon from the south. Wind rises through the square as a man begins strange gestures— a ritual before the coming storm.
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The Beforetimes
In the cooking room, the kettle begins to sing, and her voice answers — calling a name I no longer trust belongs to me.
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Chasing Clouds
After the day’s heat, a jazz singer colours the evening air turquoise, a man inhales from a blue cylinder, and a dog dances after smoke on the Street.
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The Night Is Young
Evening settles over the river; friends laugh on the damp grass. Memory hovers—half-forgotten, half-desired—like a country glimpsed in fading light.
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Under the Bridge
The damp comes off the river, seeping into clothing, and the sodium light struggles under the bridge’s arc. When the curlew’s wail rises with the storm, the night strikes its bargain with the river, and silence follows
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Whalesong
A reflective poem about whales suspended in air, memory, and the haunting echo of whalesong in a concrete tunnel.
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Sodium Zone
City bridge after hours: mattress, tent, algae-slick rocks. The light cuts, metal scrapes, light returns—and the scene holds.
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Little Hooks
A poem of moons and tides, of memory’s splinters and small betrayals that lodge like hooks, refusing to leave.
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Morning River Notes
Four haiku river poems