Tag: Debbie Lim

By Debbie Lim,   For Bob Slaughter, palaeontologist   He understands the bones of little fish. The way each spine will set in stone beneath the weight of forests, sediment, the collapsed strata of years. How many times has he lifted those skulls with a minute brush, blown dust from the space their fins once…

By Debbie Lim,   You see through me instantly, melting away branches, shadow. Meanwhile you wear that primitive mask: as if shocked to the bone. It’s a floating art you practice, levering that binary face over fields, between gaps in the trees. And when you call, a hollowness enters all things: emptied receptacles. Night is…