Reverie

Rimbaud, Satie and Dali are partly to blame. A new stage, voyeuristic, reflective, dreamlike; love, beauty, humour, and death remain; experiments continue, so many shades in the spectrum.



"... By the time she ushered me up
Like a wild brumby
Half wanting to be tamed
By the time her eyes pierced mine
By the time her liquid mouth
Reached for mine
It was too late
And not late enough

For a miracle
For a flood
We traced and scanned each other
Like two 3D printers
Sculpting wishes
Making something real
With fakery and witchcraft..."