The Mechanics of Dreaming – Eccentric Exploration

Musings and reflection Poetry Self-Realization The Mechanics of Dreaming

The commodification of art, aka I made a thing you can buy!

by Trish / 25/05/2018

Hello. It’s been a while since I posted here and the reason for that is because I’ve been writing a book. To be fair, the book was mostly already written, and it was just a matter of putting it together. But so I have, it has a cover and everything (THANK YOU AUTUMN!!!!) and there are just a few incidental details to take care of before it gets printed. One of those details is, how many copies should I print?…

0 8 2
Read More

Drabbles - 100 words The Mechanics of Dreaming

Communication – a drabble

by Trish / 25/05/2017

She is a summer storm on low simmer, with a sass as quick as a lightning flash comeback style that can make him laugh for days. He has eyes that sing her songs of moonlight at noon, of warm rain on bare honeyed skin, of long low notes that curl like smoke and sound just right. She carries a question in the weighted sway of her hips, in the soft tilt of her head, in the way her smile presses…

Musings and reflection Poetry The Mechanics of Dreaming

On time

by Trish / 13/01/2017

I have no time for a quick bath. Any thoughts of rush through this and on to the next are lost in the smooth eddies that form around my sinking hips. My feet, tentative ambassadors from the department of testing the waters bravely pave the way and let me know just how difficult this might be. Sometimes it takes me just as long to find myself all the way in, cool skin to hot water ratio off the charts, as…

Drabbles - 100 words Poetry The Mechanics of Dreaming

October 3

by Trish / 03/10/2016

Corduroy, while not the choice of cunning cat burglary enthusiasts Nevertheless inspires a strong sense of shifting temperatures. A fall fashion featured in soon to be scuffed freshly waxed hallways and playgrounds saturated with the screams of remembering how to get the most out of recreation within compartmentalized increments of time. An unstealth school day staple of same colour stripeyness unnoticed Against a backdrop of whisperwicking sounds made by wanderers running amok on crackle leaf paths.…

Poetry The Mechanics of Dreaming

Wabi-sabi, heartfuckery and the absence of pantses

by Trish / 03/12/2015

My smile cracked wide, words slipped inside and gently pried I scrambled, gathered brambles I had always used to hide. Of course they poke you, but they prick me too, They stick deep and they’re in, a part of my skin, Until I can’t remember a time When I wasn’t an emotional porcupine. Get close? That boast of a habit of saving Well I have no craving to be the test of that raving insanity That someone else can be…