Joanna Walkden Harris & Pete Spence

Watching the Clouds Roll in.
lying against a living branch like dinosaur bones
entangled behind a stringy barque prowling the air
sails around as old branches building up among
the kneecap outcrops of granite bulging in layers
curving along the tracks stirring up a rise out
of some pink leaves we glide through like tapestries
among the currents of grass watching the clouds
roll in in serpentine scoops rising like feathers
a flotilla shedding its various skins like histories
scattered thoughts a step in a direction it seems
wild skirmishes and yo-yoing of speeches warts
against huffs of light as flattening cleats sweeping
the horizon resisting tidal tectonics like night
and day and other intervening moments clustered
moments! o! swathes of triangles strengthening 
a cleaved manoeuvre pushing off into the space
of it like a shove of air imploding direction 

Hanging Apostrophes.

a few more ointments and the flies are thick
who keeps spilling the beans the trail always
amending you could be down and out on
the dark side of the moon blinking to see
the point of the exercise blind to the scurrying
maze in tin hats holding parasols keeping
the filleted sun amused threading the not so
pallid daylight treading lightly over a coated
fantasy on melting ice sashaying over a turtle
passing a school of irrationally cobalt ankles
scuffing over the dunes like a rippling ebb of
herbs as streamers floating through an edge
of free radicals chiming the fodder of a chorus
insensitive to any chemistry ends in an
unpunctuate clam up among the quavers

Joanna Walkden Harris is a photographer/printmaker/poet who has always lived 
in Melbourne. Born there in 1950.
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