Richard Zola, England Bio: Richard was born in Guernsey, a small island off the west coast of France, and has left fingerprints/ footprints across the world. Now based in the U.K, he works with those damaged by drugs and people. He's surprised to be alive, frightened sometimes. An interview with him conducted by Billy Marshall Stoneking may be read @ http://earink.cjb.net

waiting as the bird waits this may be the last room the last shadows on polished wood your bracelets on the table birds you painted across the wall the bowl you made these yellow flowers this air on my skin as you pass this need to taste your teeth to read the map of your mouth to press into you to eat your hair this stained floor and your feet blue veined and painted this may be the last time of waiting for the shift of air as you open the door from the street i came in here i thought you were in the north & now i'm beyond empty unmoving on this bed i'm not like anything i can hear you talking in another room i don't want you here now with me only your voice this space the curtain moving the room light darkened no sounds from outside & your clothes falling from a chair and no holes in your hand or mine we've seen only darkness today yesterday only darkness and artificial light candles unlit windows closed & insects against glass occasionally i watched you turn pages take notes you spoke of footsteps on iron ladders descending & doors closing on broken words now we're in different rooms i'm here at this table your fingerprints engraved on my face on the table a blue cloth the yellow fruit you stood in rain to buy & a knife now you're here barefoot on woven grass your breathing is unhurried as you pick up the knife when the fruit has been divided you'll fill your hands with seeds & throw these hours from the window into weeds & the skeletons of mice only the black square of the window stay all night with me in this room the other rooms are dark stay all night with me in this room we'll drink coffee piss in the sink we'll sleep on the table wrapped in newspapers we'll read each other become eloquent in gossip and political emergency stay all night with me in this room the other rooms are dark the world has disappeared semen stain on a communion dress (approximately) night rain signs doorways and the sound of shoes something i said hollowed you contaminated you turn away green red yellow blue light on your jacket the city tilts traffic the sound of ripping skin i see you as ordinary extraordinary you look at me away at the chinese window i want to see you being born All works copyright Richard Zola

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