Creative Practice
She wears a cape of winter grey draped over her shoulders bare they call her Prim bow to dance her suitors unaware, of victims past and lovers gone regarding false identity, mounting her in cold dominion riding her absentmindedly. A path is laid with daffodils heads heavy from winter rain, would you stand tall Crowned…
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Tumbling veil of roses, blush pink and red like apples strung together fall around her face. Sucking in smells: oxygen rich plants crave her majesty’s light, twitching whiskers in twisting bushes I revel in nature’s underbelly. Sweet nectar perfume drips down, blue sky, falls valley of a granite storm Mother’s release of her pain. Black…
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Orchid in the Office 