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Likestarlings is a place for talking in poems and pictures. We pair poets with poets and photographers with photographers. Each pair produces a sequence of new works responding in turn to one another. Our palaver blog goes beyond poetry and photography to discuss collaboration in theory and in practice in a wide range of places. Please take a look, and feel free to add comments, opinions and suggestions here. Read poems here, look at photographs here.
 

Guardian


Saw silk under the macracarpa tree,
with my skin left on the floor in leaves,

and it winked like water.

I looked closely, thought I might make a sign,
drag it like liquid’s skin over mine -

the under-inside of wings.

Silk flew through my hands like tofu milk….
In a courtyard there were children singing,

pushing their hips together,

voices the metal keening of rubbed coins,
and when I spat paan, I clanged up

against my own rusted tongue.

I tried out calling and heard back a yellow sky,
took the fabric and covered my left eye,

I knew that there was clearing to be done,
and a maybe man with a sex-hot rage-up gun.

I held onto the stars like monkey rungs
and cut the bluest square. I had to come.

So I spread distance taut, fixed love, pursuit,
trust uplifted like a pulled parachute.