A Response to To watch, with your mind's eye Written by Jenny Powell

Wenerei 5 Āperira

Wednesday 5 April


Red earthed fingers

leave their print

on round words.


Words vanish into tactile desire.


Desire seeps through porous palm skin.


Skin of mud absorbs the tap of Morse lullabies.


Lullabies sink into ages of earth.


Earth colours and settles in time.


Time is an incubation.


Incubation cements mudstone boulders.


Boulders crack apart

forming open wounds.

Their dust is read.


Jenny Powell