Reverie

Rimbaud, Satie and Dali are partly to blame. A new stage, voyeuristic, reflective, dreamlike; love, beauty, humour, and death remain; experiments continue, so many shades in the spectrum.

“…By the time she ushered me up

Like a wild brumby

Half wanting to be tamed

By the time her eyes pierced mine

By the time her liquid mouth

Reached for mine

It was too late

And not late enough

For a miracle

For a flood

We traced and scanned each other

Like two 3D printers

Sculpting wishes

Making something real

With fakery and witchcraft…”