My incredibly clever friend Alice grew up in an amazing country home built by her father, a painter, on a hill and invited us to stay the night. We sat around a checkered tablecloth, drank chilled rosé wine and feasted on barbecued goodies, overlooking the valley, a billabong and the sheep. Before the sun disappeared entirely, I snuck in a few photos around the beautiful bushland.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
the dream
There are carpenters under my eye lids
trying to bolt down my lashes
lacquering against the ever old joke
There are soldiers there too
their heavy boots dangling from my lashes
as I march us out of here
Monday, January 3, 2011
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