the line (I am)

the line (I am) - 03/08/2022 my lineis long it windsthrough time I am just oneof my kind I am just oneineternity I stretch outmy handto the past I stretch outto touchwhere I’ve beenandwho I am mineis a linethat runs throughthe long grassof standingand fallen I amthe linethat is allof us allof us ~

a scarecrow to be rendered (soon)

I am thinkingof drawinga scarecrow whowould it beI wonder I mean . . . what I meaniswho would it bringto mind would it besome strangerstandingin a fieldwatchingfrom the cornerof one eye atwhat am Idoing orwould it be me self portraittwenty-three each onea little truer each onemyselfin a glassas seenthrough the pointof a pencil the inkof … Continue reading a scarecrow to be rendered (soon)

margot (is at the berlin railway station)

I am the childof a refugee she says my mother –who is ninetyseven now –fledfrom oppressors in the nineteenforties she and Ilive nowin germany oursis a small place butwe believewe have room . . . enough roomin our unitto accommodatemore those people –poor people –their husbandsand fathersare fighting for their home somotherand me we will … Continue reading margot (is at the berlin railway station)

An indulgence

A little while ago, during a period of Long Service leave from my psychiatric nursing job I got carried away with turning my entire back catalog into book form, ending up with 20 general collections of work and about 10 themed collections that are earmarked for for listing as available books. One of the collections … Continue reading An indulgence

At the Armadillo

at the Armadillo guitars hang in colours on a wall shaded yellow and sunset ukuleles are a light relief of sky plus brown spaced to make a little silent symmetry in this homage to the desert corrugated rainbow-iron upholds a spotlight for the mirror-ball twirler of reflections to pout lipstick shapes that simmer around the … Continue reading At the Armadillo