Nocturne for Eleanor

her face next to mine and
we are kissing so deeply
we unlock the soft darkness
inside each other

its naked endlessness
blood and wonder

 

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Eleanor prepares

a blood orange
slit like a magician’s trick

two cheeks of light
so beautiful

a passing bee
loses itself in

the unkinking
scarf of juice

Varuna Bound

Well, things may quieten here over the next week, as tomorrow I head off to Varuna to soak in silence and see what bubbles to the surface. One week of solid, uninterrupted writing, sitting at Eleanor Dark’s desk in her studio overlooking the magnificent gardens. Sounds amazing when I say it, though, a little daunting at the same time…

Good friend and fine poet, Nathan Shepherdson jokingly said it’s an opportunity to go Chris Gayle (cricket reference for all those wondering) style and write 100 poems in the week, but as I said, a well crafted 30 would do me just fine.

One thing is for sure, I will be sharing the odd poem here over the coming weeks… and hopefully a postcard in the next few days.

Until…