From the original:

Anni, (Cloudthings) new Prose entry:

When I sit on a verandah in the autumn afternoon, watching the leaves glow chrimson or saffron bright in the late, rich sunlight, I wonder what it is that makes our hearts echo that glow so deeply?

Sitting in my back room, writing letters to a friend, long absent, playing “artist in residence” in Korea, I gaze out my big window to get lost in the swaying, shifting mass of gum leaves against the sky. Again, mesmerized and somehow fulfilled and inspired by the interplay of tree and weather.

Her innosence gone, prematurely
she's like a full-grown, glistening pearl;
a flawless unit of nature
not to mention, "daddy's girl";

imprisoned, and surrounded by
the thought that it "feels", wrong;
told, "not to yell", and "not to cry"....
because he wants her to be...strong.

An extremely trusting child
childishly placing trust;
on her shoulders, guilt is piled
as she hits the streets, or bust.

Shadow fever elevates
From a whisper through the veil

Awoken from the lost
Contamination alludes to past,
Reclaiming softly
Skin unholy borne.

Foretold eyes
Witness deprivation.

Doused in spell-gaze
Hue extracts life
Leaving only an outline
Of a form unknown.

Voice of agreement
Renders no vow.

Weak stature
Desperately craves consciousness,
Unavailable, reclamation is lost
Leaving only resonance of silence.

Alone
Exposed
Frailty heightens

They've taken up the railroad track
that joined together all these places
and they'll likely never be laid back.
All that's left are gravelly traces.

Iva, Starr and Lowndesville too,
small southern towns along the line,
(and many more I never knew)
left to wither with no vine.

Mere remnants of those byegone days
when textile mills were going strong
where looms echoed through the summer haze
a background beat to dryflies' song.

1 grain of sand,
It's all your given.
Told to do something marvelous with it,
Something magnificent.

It lays there,
In a sand mound.
It's bigger,
It stands out from all the rest.

Bending over you pick it up,
Roll it around in your fingers.
Your cold skin,
over sun heated grain.

The grain,
Is it a sign?
Well,
It's more gold than the rest!

It's so beautiful,
As the winds blow in the ocean.
Sail boats whipping about,
The breeders of this nation.

ere the shadow dwelt
comatose and broadly
long
as the shade thats fallen
on this lawn
like the breath of stillness
in a calm

a dream punctured
shock
torrid rapid
jagged rocks

she puts the key
upon the tongue
for his escape
the lock

and they live
twi t here and
now
midstrike
betweeen
the clock
call

between heaven
and hell

Laying soundly down to rest
Drowning from my wishes
I reach over to turn out the light
And rest my wearied mind

My mind begins to flicker out
And welcome me to slumber
My heavy eyelids giving out
And falling from my dreams

I dream of flying with the owls
Against the starlit sky
And swimming with the dolphin
In the shadow of a sea

Flying and swimming to and fro
Searching it almost seems
For the other side of me
Because my souls undone

A breast, the breast, two breasts abreast
what galleons, figure heads, project their bloom,
their blown out pomp, balloon,
swollen slowly through the child its birth,
suckled, swallowing the milk of mother's holy rooms,
their own develop,
laced with fantasies not yet understood
but if they could, what then.

1.
Yes, on this site
I'm little known,
but not unknown

but where the two sites I wrote
there I now don’t go,
still believe you me,
three hundred read me daily…

Being known or unknown
is simply a matter of perception,
I detest ways of deception

When I was a kid,
I took a job
working the iron ore mines
in far north west Australia

only criminals
or men on the run for other reasons
worked there then

and me
a bourgeois kid
18

my first night in town
I was rescued from serial rapists
the welcoming committee

Dave Mason,
who rescued me
I saw beaten to a bloody pulp
my last night in town
while I was held by the throat
above the ground
to witness

But