Robert King



Right now cool sand runs through our tingling toes

Against the nettling spray, brace lips of salt

Icy waves current through our heating veins

Wetted hair flanks cheeks like brackish sea weed

We form the prow of a wrecked ancient boat

Air chains and stinging rime whip round our skin

On edge we’re perched and framed by dusky time

We are the sea and the sand and the sky

Clarity sharpens up the sandbar shapes

As whiteness seeps through us with skindeep waves

Our eyes aflow with wash of water blue

Seapower and skymight link within the swirl.

Time stands distilled; we stand as stone statues

Salt -centred by fatal force of sand drift


still life


'You have a pulse'

The doctor said

Pressing two fingers

Against my beating soul

'And that's a bonus'


brighton bombshell

Lacroix ties


Beneath my bladed hands.


China cups


Creating Dresden rain.


In the garden

Our marriage bed is ash;

Torched by Versace rags.


For fun,

I finger the $200 cheque

And smile while the toothless hoon

Glides by

In our purple Merc.


Yes, my dear.

It’s only just begun.