She cracked the air with her words, split the trees from their bough, tore stars from their night. Love fell from a thrown disc of sun to fill the back of his eyes. The courtyard framed the wetted stone for its own pleasure, and when pleasure met fate, all was dreamt and loamy about. And this is why the gaze of my thoughts stir from some nameless place in time. Why stubborn fates pull hearts in two, Why no one speaks art but you. — GRAEME LAW
Graeme Law is a writer/composer living in Suffolk, England. His work is heavily informed by visual metaphor and always drawn from lived experiences. He paints common experiences in new colors. He is dressed like an office clerk and the collar rubs against his neck.