for my father Inside my head are patterns a quilt of paddocks seen from the cockpit of the Tiger Moth the coastline is drawn in waves, crumpled like silk maps ... Read More

Inside me is stuff I’m not sure anyone can explain. Each day another statistic dances as a testament to clickbait and big Pharma. So what are all my chemicals doing ... Read More

Yinaargal come together by a fire burning eurah and sandalwood. Smoke fans away distractions that distance us. Each one of us silently places a small branch in the fire. Letting ... Read More