Fanning the Flames
The sky is ablaze. Waves of dirty yellows wash over the ground, as crimson smoke licks barren clouds that loiter jeeringly overhead. Fuel
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
The sky is ablaze. Waves of dirty yellows wash over the ground, as crimson smoke licks barren clouds that loiter jeeringly overhead. Fuel
As chimney stacks spew forth our tainted offerings of industrial excrement, dilapidated ventilators strain to suck poison from the saturated veins of concrete obelisks; their
At the top of the world we slowly cast our sonic nets beneath the waves, in search of the secrets that these soundscapes suppress. Spectrograms
Basking in the tainted gloss of west coast rays, these once frigid waters overflow with sustenance, enticing anchovies to cavort along the coastlines; their corporeal
Not all heat is made equal. Between streets stained red with the indelible ink of discrimination, the clammy embrace of federal excess can still
In swathes of fractured colours you wheel across unbroken skies, a kaleidoscope of memory drifting between seasons; patterns shifting sensitively to the subtleties of scale.
Entrenched in an endless cycle of external consumption, the intractable habits of your daily transgressions castigate your presence; a scourge on the environment you inhabit.
Between synthetic, parallel lines drawn across artificially constructed maps, the clouds begin to form. Climbing upwards like giant anvils of cotton candy, a trick of
Swaying steadily in kaleidoscopic fields, spectral fans reflect the turquoise light; their mottled aura straining spectra as warming oceans bleach branches and lighten latticework. Parasitic
Drifting beside western coasts of uncovered continents, metallic leviathans stretch their sunken limbs. Hinged jaws spitting sulphurous seeds that linger beneath the ether; clouds condensing