A sleep-trapped world could twist itself
to other worlds we’d never want to meet;
to worlds we’d run from if we met them;
worlds in which we’d look at water
fretted into gooseflesh by fine rain
and ask what caused and prowls
that smooth patch tight as skin on blistered burns;
worlds in which we’d learn what ate
the hearts of fallen trees and rolled them
to the water’s edge as floating husks
where brown foam slumped in feeble swell
like something furred and dead.
Michael Bartholomew-Biggs is poetry editor of the on-line magazine London Grip . He has published three chapbooks and the full collections, the most recent being ‘Fred & Blossom’ (Shoestring Press, 2013). See also mikeb-b.blogspot.co.uk
David Walsh‘s painting addresses a number of things (whether intentionally or not he is never sure): these are identity, belief & redemption. As an expat Australian, his colours and themes represent where he comes from which is still as important to him now as it was when he lived there.