Finding Under Difficult Circumstances by Pam Swanborough By the time you read this anything might have happened. She might have fallen in love by the time you read this. By the time you read this she might be dead. For that’s just how it works. Don’t feel bad for reading. It’s just how things work.… Continue reading Finding Under Difficult Circumstances
This building is being waterboarded. I live inside the sound of water, falling down a dozen long galvanized throats as it sheds off a roof the size of two tennis courts. Giggles, sighs, shouts of rain or coughs of hail that can last for hours. The sound is variously deafening, overwhelming, comforting: a maelstrom, a… Continue reading Rain
Iseult lived by the water. She lived by the wide brown river. Her eyes were brown and her skin was brown. Iseult lived by the water and she didn’t know she was drowning.
I am so sick of me today, so when the sun finally drops below the spring rainclouds and fills the house with a sudden brightness I look up from my work-desk with anticipation...
Uncurls the fern in spring’s dawny damp; unfurls the shawling wind across the falling heights of winter’s decay.
An ancient hill shaded by eucalypts, later the hunting of native animals, or worse. Then, gold for the picking. Today, dawn gilds the building that shades this place...
Wind runs strong from the home of Morningstar, I’ll hunt at Old Farm, for Cold Farm will smell me coming tonight...
Mather the thief pushed through the stink of people at Covent market, eyed the singer’s begging-bowl of pinchbeck, moved on
A kitten wandered away from his milky mother, and met a snake in the grass...
There's a great and beautiful cedar outside my door
P A Swanborough 
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