A watery grave in shifting tides in motion bound by wind and moon, upon the waves is where he thrives, complete, as one with this green room. The soulful song of swell at play, the churning bass, the crash, the boom, the blissful kiss of first sun’s light, above underworld he drifts attuned. ~ Mark…


How you perceive the world is how you perceive the world. ~ Mark Thompson


A toddler immersed in deepened sleep The morning’s waves on glassy bay A rooster’s call well before dawn’s break The piercing wind on windless day. The fridge in hum, mid blackout’s pitch The blooming bulb’s growth on sun’s ray Rusting tractor’s toil in paddock green A non-present thought in this present scene. ~ Mark Thompson


It was just like the beginning, Every time they met. Mark Thompson


I understand, because I know that road too. I have been down that road so many times before. I have seen the same signs over and over, have known the same repeating end, the telegraph poles, the houses passing by, the shapes of each letterbox, the strolling faces.  That road has a name:  Comfort. And…

Fresh paint

An empty hallway sweeps long howls of echoing silence down to the open door. Haunting memories reverberate within breaking gaping wounds once more. Past secretes from this place, a troubled mind left to berate. Darkness envelopes that single bulb when the angels dare not enter the gate. In lonely stroll of wandered halls wait struggling…

Future’s Kiss

There will never be a future occurrence of your heart beating next to mine. No fingers entwined, eyes locked on yours, staring into your rich veins of depth.

Mindfully eating an apple?

As I trace my fingers across your delicate skin I begin to feel your everything.  Meandering slowly, appreciating all that you encompass.  Every mound, every pore, every perfect imperfection.  Your body IS art, a piece of sheer beauty, glowing with a natural warmth, born from this extraordinary world.