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The Empire of the Primrose

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  Empire of the Primrose poem The city fell in a single night.  Holding it would take longer. So the painters were summoned,  and the saints on the walls were given his family's eyes. A bloodline was found for him,  older than the walls,  older than the kings who raised them. Now even the earth must forget it ever belonged to anyone else. The Empire of the Primrose - Station 1 Do you have recurring dreams? Travel Sketches by metamodernist artist JJFBbennett The cycle always resets at dusk, like waking inside the cold architecture of an unyielding, repetitive dream. I walk the wet, cobbled veins of an ancient European city, passing beneath stone arches hung with heavy, lifeless flags, heraldry drained of colour, damp cloth clinging to wooden poles like dead skin. There is no breath of wind, only the low, humming pressure of an era turning in its sleep. I reach into an iron sconce and tear loose a torch of roaring, ragged fire. The flame casts jittering amber shad...
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Ba Na Hills Fingers Vietnam

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Fingers of Da Nang

Fingers of God
Buddha's Rays
Jacob's Ladder

There is a science
An optical illusion
The meanings appear to diverge
Which lord speaks with you
Their mandate from heaven
In the reflective shadows
Secured in a higher realm



In Protection
Doing what we are told
Just do your best
Sleep, breath & eat-in readiness for work
For your personal conversion
To the services you employ
In their protection
In illness
Over the decades
At what age do you stop smiling?


This hand protects
This hand holds a special place of honour
Sheep to the right and goats to the left
A helping hand
This hand is at work






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