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Blood Moon Scrub - Through the eyes of the Lost Soldier

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Through the eyes of the Lost Soldier The sky is bleeding into the dirt again, and the old hunger crawls up through my boots. It no longer matters. Time does not march out here. It pools beneath a dry creek bed, stagnant and unseen. But when the moon swells, heavy and bruised with copper rust, the cold in my ribs becomes a scald. The scrub does not burn with heat. It burns with memory. Through the tangled mallee, I see the flash of artillery, the orange-red roar of a barrage that never stopped falling, trapped forever inside the rib cages of these dead gums. I taste copper on my tongue, sharp as rifle oil and dried blood. The black heavens press down, bending the whole world inward until I am trapped inside a glass bead of fire. I pace the boundary where red light cuts into deep shadow, waiting for a relief column that lost its heading eighty years ago. Everything here is parched. I am so thirsty. But I do not want water. I want your nourishment. I want your dawn, your warm pulse, as yo...
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Kyoto Mound

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Evidenced prosperity and eternal continuation
Meticulously realised

Requirement proof of achievement
Dedicated resources symbolised

Making sure the job was done
Finding a way to demonstrate the cause

Accounted merit & overlooked squander
Each concentration of power justified

Then scale is diverted to an even more grand stature
These the practices of the elite



The stories we tell ourselves
To allow it at home
The power of beautiful impressions 
Being both good and bad
Desirable and undesirable








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