Third Act At a dawdling tempowe became this scant thing;drifting further from dayswhen clocks went unnoticed,dreaming in colour – far flung like hopeful fishing nets. We tore up the stars,revelled in dark stringsmoaning under night’s cover;their sad arabesques falling in madcap waves– drowning us in song. And your face turning slow;like Muddy Waters in mourning. ©️Continue reading “Third Act”
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Everything He Didn’t Say
Everything He Didn’t Say You never walked with Lorcaover dusty roads – amongstthe fresh morning twang of oranges bathed in rain,or stood your ground to returnfire with blue flames that burn the skin of beating palms.You never planted your feetin dirt beneath a choleric sun, or turned your face to the skyto listen with ringingContinue reading “Everything He Didn’t Say”
Codgers Memoir in Twelve Seconds
Codgers Memoir in Twelve Seconds Each day a dog-eared copyof its predecessor–a pixelated imagesaved too often; in other words,a shroud over weathered cobbles. ©️Orion Foote 2023
Interim Eternal
Interim Eternal In ramshackle light,a stellata blossommakes its last stand;rallies against the blightof a humbug season. People live & dieby their own devices around here – minglewith those of another kind;gather nebulous clues to another’s Rubik’s cubefrom the corner of their eye. Some flinch at echoes.They shy away froma well meaning sun,or avert blinking eyesfromContinue reading “Interim Eternal”
The Frame Sculptor
The Frame Sculptor The opening is like an out of bodyBergman on his own self analysis couch.He’s a cunning light thief, this man;all calculated optics and Rembrandt line. The way he renders distilled theatrefox like—coaxing the eyeball withsteel retina and well tempered Leica.An unflinching countenance setagainst an expanse of stark dimension,right down to the nittyContinue reading “The Frame Sculptor”
Visions of Orion Poetry 