The Ganges flows through his hair
A cobra is wrapped around his wrist
Beneath his foot a a monster squirms
Held firmly by the throat
And Shiva dances in his ring of fire
Watercolour on paper
Pink
The Tarot had the Devil, the Moon and the Tower all in one reading, shattering the pink sweetness.
watercolour on paper
St Michael and the Fallen Angel
The park was was full of people. She walked arm in arm with St Michael and the Fallen Angel, past the boating lake, past a Santa in Nike trainers making sausage dog balloons, past a green Kermit resting on a bench with his hands folded on his stomach. The fountain with the sad Queen was frozen and children were smashing the ice and skimming the broken pieces. St Michael said, ‘just enjoy what comes to you’. The Fallen Angel was looking for a cafe with gas heaters, hoping for coffee and a slice of roscón. ‘Better not sit down too close to people just for now,’ St Michael whispered. The Fallen Angel sighed and pulled his green fur coat closer. ‘Don't worry he said to me, ‘it isn't real, but it is very warm and I like the colour, don't you?’ ‘Yes’, I said, ‘it really suits you’. He looked pleased. We walked past a bush with dull black berries hanging very close together. ‘They are sure to be poisonous’, said St Michael. A sign with a flower on said that that the park was planting natural species of flowers and pulling up the exotic ones. ‘How virtuous’, said the Fallen Angel.
Watercolour on paper