Spring – Autumn 2025

A balloon in a field bobbed like some kind of animal; a lampshade resembling a strangely large flower; A police car overturned with the door open as if pursuing a heist at high speed.

Found

Field, find, found. I walk the ground pad, pad, pad. In between the grasses tall, a thing so small glitters. A larger thing, round alien thing gets blown the road over. Dragged by a mouse or a rat or fox, grit sticks to it. Its fragile form bent, its usefulness spent, providing sanctuary for some. The wires bend, waft and wend, the brambles crackle on. Leaves burn at the turn of summer, a crack of glass, a clump of earth, lumpy dust for breathing. Breathe it in a tossed whim, rolling alien wheezing. A police car in a ditch, a sticker twitches; its edges curling.