THE WOLF'S WHISPER I felt I couldn't last long on bristle alone with this broken heart, these broken bones so I carried the weight as far as I could with the howling moon and the firewood while I kept constantly checking my scar tissue my blurry tattoos and my brands obsessing about my expiry date where it hid in the lines on my hands funny in the end it was my imaginary friend's straightforward wisdom I followed to remain unafraid for only today and fight tomorrow's monsters tomorrow.
HARVEST There’s just so many nows in forever if we’re apart or together as one, we’d better cherish them all if we’re clever make the most of our time in the sun, ‘coz it’s where we are led whether up or in bed there’s one funeral we all must attend, because somewhere ahead the sea kisses the sky and the name of that place is the end.
Lindsay McLeod currently lives by the sea on the Southern edge of the world, where he trips over the offing every morning. He has been published here and there in the past and won a few awards. He has started messing about with words again lately after a few necessary years away. You might expect him to know better by now, but oh no.