washingmachine (Remove filter)
Silent Wash
It’s a direct drive of fifty litres
From me to you.
Six hundred miles north
Until I’m resting my eyes on your face:
That soothing easy care
From the dial and touch
Of your features
The mixed fabric of your voice
Trickling through my cells.
I am freestanding
But will bloom
When you enter the room.
Until then,
I’m in this intensive
...
Monday 21st November 2022 8:49 pm
Recent Comments
Russell Jacklin on Death of Fanny Adams
2 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on An act of kindness leads to a divine reward
8 hours ago
LEON STOLGARD on Le Chat noir
9 hours ago
raypool on Death of Fanny Adams
10 hours ago
raypool on celestial school of verse
10 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on An act of kindness leads to a divine reward
11 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on June 2025
11 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Here Today Gone Tomorrow
14 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on celestial school of verse
18 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on celestial school of verse
18 hours ago