She looked so pretty in her blue jacket and shoes. Colours make me happy, she said. And you make me happy, I said. Or I wish that’s what I had said. All the colours have passed out of her now, like blue leaves drifting down from the trees. © Richard James Allen “Explosively powerful … Continue reading
For Chee and Stephen Who I was in the past, Who I will be in the future – What distractions these are From who I am now. Who I am now, Here, with you. In this moment, You have rewritten my past. You are rewriting my future. What I don’t understand about Who I was … Continue reading
of course the trees are my friends they are like me ~ busy busy bees growing in slow motion they embrace me when I enter the garden they remember that I water them they teach me how to be still they teach me how to be busy busy busy only very very slowly they teach … Continue reading
“I think that human beings lock birds in cages because they themselves are incapable of flying” – Unknown Mirella Salame is a young Lebanese artist whom I met last Sunday at MACAM, Modern and Contemporary Art Museum. She is a participant in the Age of Wood sculpting competition. Her performative installation is titled freedom and … Continue reading
for Karen Your beauty cannot be translated, but I would fail not to try. It generates a weather no meteorology can describe. It is most like a flower, a flower with moods. An unstill life, in no need of arranging, it arranges itself. It is not fixed, so how can I fix it? It doesn’t … Continue reading
Richard James Allen was born in the New South Wales country town of Kempsey. He spent the first ten years of his life in Vietnam and Japan. Upon his return to Australia, he began writing diaries. Gradually the entries became less and less literal and more and more imaginative as he moved from recording to … Continue reading
Last Letter That night, your final night alive, I turned from your locked red door still holding your letter, a thunderbolt that could not earth itself. Shock remade my brains, and the prevalent devils of ill-love added to the huddle of riddles that failed to divulge their unhappy import— was that your plan? Dellarobbia, my … Continue reading
Poem and Dish 