AGEING FRUIT IN THE HOT SUN

  Beat and blow and bare away, let not blood rip beauty black. We watch, we want. “I want hot peaches, honey,” you said. “No music for me, no sun”   All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly This is a repost as I am busy baking birthday cakes for myself and co workers

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BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.29, NAPOWRIMO

  I have parts of me  twisted like rotten roots  in drying soil and parts of me  supple as feverish fruit, thirsty for attention. I am both  crumbling skin trying to flee this figure and sides so smooth that they offer little hold. I have broken borders to be free and built boundaries  to hide […]

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AGEING FRUIT IN THE HOT SUN

  And so my first try at online Magnetic Poetry, at first glance I thought “Well, this is fun,” but I was wrong. A challenge of limitations.     Beat and blow and bare away, let not blood rip beauty black We watch, we want, “I want hot peaches, honey,” you said “No music for […]

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FESTERING FRUIT

  Berries blacken in the bowl, their scent no longer salivating summer’s sweet seductions, winter withers in the distance, while fervent flies are fluttering, wings flapping to the rotting arousal of carnality lost to natures once fair bloom. Tastes are truly to the barer born. Bitter berries are black in the bowl, their flesh no […]

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