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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THE BURNING WOOD

  And so man within his story, with all his guts and gluttoned glory, failed to reach the heavens   with his flying ships and roaring weapons, looking upwards,  always upwards,  never sideways, never backwards, never wondering  how he stood with his feet in the burning wood, on this one time fertile Earth once filled with […]

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