Jonathan Shayfer

An outing to this outhouse is an act of kami-khazi

To wit, to woo, to fight, to split, rupture of raptors, annulments of owls, a tawny dissolution.

When the vastness of the sea swallows you up and clouds are consumed by the horizon and solitaire's the only game in town.

Shattered rusty remnant of a bygone era. The unrelenting wind remembers the maverick smile of Dillinger, the forlorn fate of Bonnie and Clyd

Peregrines cut the air with spitfire wings, Cheetahs leave the earth, fleet of foot, While the snail goes placidly amidst the noise...

A celestial sky of rolling cloud; a scarlet jingled-belled jester grins slyly at a white canvas tent sprouting a cross. Is this a dream?

Somebody saw my parents on a bridge where they first met and courted. They were quietly gazing at the river. But that can't be right...

Paws that terrorise mice and sparrows, Paws in catfights, battles lost and won...

Strange creatures, hens, with those piercing unresponsive eyes, that frilly scarlet crown and stabbing dinosaur feet...

And I remember as a wee child, enraptured by the magic of the sea, the hands and smiling weather-beaten face of a time long past...

Kingdoms rise then fall, monuments to man's grandiose schemes, now no more than skeletal ruins. But she endures...

A slavering memory of wildebeest in flight, Hyenas shriek in Tanzanian night. Midday nap under Serengeti trees, Roar of triumph as...

Even armour piercing bullets couldn't tear reptilian shield from prehistoric aeons and the sheer power of time.