Dawnie

This is one of my favourite photos. It was taken by a friend during an early morning surf at the bluff with a R100 waterproof camera. I love the grittiness and simplicity and the fact that all it took was a moment in time to capture the essence of what surfing means to me.

Questions

He looks at me, rubbing his stomach in rapid blurred motion.
His eyes are hazy-sad as he communicates the timeless signal in
more ways than one. I tell him that I'm sorry. I'm not. I tell him
that I can't help him. Who am I to say this? His eyes are sad, but
are they honest? Is that even relevant? Where does he sleep when
I climb under clean and soft covers ? How does he escape this
situation? Can I blame him if he teleports - hands cupped around
a plastic bottle?

If it were me, I might be him.

Oh God, break my hardened heart and scatter it out on the pavement.

Bleached

Lonely driftwood
purified by the rough love
of the ocean;
graded and sand-papered,
smoothed out to white.

Moments on end

My sleep is minimal. I understand the value of time. We define it with watches and clocks but it's more than that. It's the heartbeat of motion, the swerving car and split moment that will determine the hit or miss of a small child.

I understand memories; that they tarnish and fade dim
and that words added to paper polish them up.
Scents and smells do the same - the really special ones
are rediscovered by chance.

Dreams

My dreams are like doors
Slamming in the wind.
Closed, open, shut tight, flung wide
Creaking.

With no clasp to shut them right.