Saturday 15 November 2014


" He came alongside me, as I followed far behind the night watchman and the faraway sound of the lantern, steady swinging, as he navigated the steppes of organized chaos, the rows of tombstones and monuments, and graves with no marker, the trees, and the possums in them, leaning over the site; palms hanging their spiked, punk up-dos over the mysterious air, running the water from the roots, pulling life mixed with rain, the nutrients of embedded memories of those who once roamed the earth, back above ground into the winding skinny trunks, high up over it all, so they could have eyes again over the resting place, and still find a sacred place in the sun. "  - K

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