Haiga Archive

gallery opening
a critic lingers over a full bodied red

rising with the sun
we carry our dreams to a new home

My friend and I explore the playground at the end of my street. The old equipment has suddenly become punctuated by strange bright contraptions. We take turns to climb inside a mounted tractor tyre while the other spins it around. Then swing in and out on a large, rotating kite. But we still end up on old favorites. We scramble over monkey bars, turn dizzy on the merry-go-round and scream down the highest slide…

white cockatoos
crown the pine trees….
summer nuts

Parking my car years later in front of the old playground.
I stare out across an ocean of neatly mown grass with one small island of equipment.

broken nest
the peanut package warns
it might contain nuts

the sea breeze carries a taste of incense… temple offering

leaf litter…
he turns over
an old thong

I try to step
quietly into the emptiness
of our spare room
but the walls echo back—mocking
this blood when I prayed for none

crescent moon
she takes away a slice
of coconut