This week's imagery comes courtesy of Tim Borrow, one of our Curate artists featured in Issue 2. Tim's been keeping busy, popping up here and there among surf media with ever pleasing results.


Let my flesh

Rot in the green grass

Of a Hebridean spring

Until blades

Protrude from navel, mouth

And purple flowers

Garnish my skull

Will island sheep forever graze

Under shifting skies

From Eoropie to Barvas?

Their endless chewing

A parallel

With our consumption

Better to lie in the long grass

Remember sweet music

And real laughter


Immune to wind and slaughter

photo by Tim Borrow
photo by Tim Borrow


Shrike girdled the

Slit eyed

Marsh hallows, the feather beaten

call to gallows

Worth a deft pass

Enshruddled mist

Lickered craw, now the tendons stick

To Thumps of silence raw

Slinking moon permits

An autopsy

Revealing sin, rotted planks tarred

Long seaborne scarred

Through marram threads

The noose

Permits, flightless mud dweller skips

And under slips

photo by Tim Borrow
photo by Tim Borrow


She is the seed-knowledge in the ravines

Under concrete, soft-headed sleeper

Dreams beneath gum patina and feet tramp

Ignored static bleeds angry stamp

Seeps through seams

Where a shadow forest creeps

Under the glum fabric of man

All her whispers are leaf brush

The delicate fan of night branches

Her speech is the soft dirge of mush

Preaching forgotten implores

This army of lurking shades

Phantoms in paving slabs

Viridian certainty, poised potential

Chasms in her skin boil with life

Ruts in the valleys,

Thunder-claps on the peak

Bats in the grammar, sly as the adders

Wound about her roots

Each a tendril, tender seeks

There is no turning the head

Unfound, the eyeless thief

Cracks every question of your heart

And answers them, piece by busted piece

photo by Tim Borrow
photo by Tim Borrow

For more of Tim's work visit: