one-line poetry.

Taking a cue from Ian McBryde - one of my favourite contemporary poets. (Melbournians do it better!)

Curtains astir in the burnt-out house.



Light in the west, light in the east.



I am setting fire to the school gates.



It isn't the wind which moves the playground swings, by night.



The nightmare, again. No safe harbor.



A loaded quiet, before the spark.



The haze and mist of rain over an abandoned London.



Car crash on camera. Glass, metal, pixels.