Tuesday, 12 December 2017



Dream Poem 100: Through the X of Pinking Shears

Scissors in the kitchen.
Long arms
Spider fingers
Table full of possibility
Popping and bursting with ideas and plans.

In my hand a pair of pinking shears
Their serrated edges
Waiting to decorate
An edge
With a row of miniature mountains
Or a factory roof.

The scissors X
Is a gateway
Crawl through
only slightly hazardous
Just avoid the sharp blades like Indiana Jones.

But once through
A whole world of pink rivers
Purple sunsets, golden mountains, green lakes and blue grass.

The sound of cicadas
Not too loud
My hammock and a sweet iced tea in my hand.

It is a high hammock
So my feet don’t touch the ground
There is a breeze
Sweet with magnolia blossom and grass

My eyes close in the warmth of evening.


Dream Poem 99: The End of an Affair

I am in a large flat
in an institutional apartment block,
a student residence

I am doing some teaching and the flat comes with the teaching job
I have got a piano
People are bringing it down stairs in sections
It is very heavy

I have been in and out all day
Two people have come to collect me
I go around
Turning the lights off

As we leave.

Monday, 11 December 2017



Dream Poem 98: Disguised Wine

A court of manners
A 1700’s party
All powder and crinoline.

Underneath the guests all desire to be top dog
They outdo each other
With rare and expensive bottles of wine.

I’m am in disguise
and try and pull off the act that I belong.

The wine is dusty
And horridly dry
but it is the oldest, most expensive and sought after.

Later I am discovered
And I tell everyone, blurt it out

“Your wine is awful.”


Dream Poem 97: Anno Domini

Running down stairs
There is no time to pack
We have to go
The children will just have to keep up.

A moment ago I was poring over ledgers and old photographs
Now we have to run.

We are in the shop named Anno Domini in the back room

Going up the stairs.

Sunday, 10 December 2017



Dream Poem 85: Jam at Mass

In church
Mass is going on
I am out of step with people.
At communion I kneel on the alter step in slightly the wrong place.

The matriarchal sisters are giving communion out
but its jam, not a host
A teaspoon in a jam jar of strawberry
there is not much left in it,
just a scraping.

After mass there is a lot of good cake on sale
I buy some.

One of our group is assaulted in the toilet
We have to leave
this is an outrage
Everyone hears but says nothing
They let it happen.




Dream Poem 82: Clothes Mountain

In Ikea but it’s a megastore, even bigger
Looking at lampshades and glass vases
There is a swimming pool with different levels
Kids are swimming I can see through the shop window down into the pool area
There are escalators and I find I have stored many clothes there
There is a cupboard and crates of clothes
I start going through them seeing which ones I want and don’t want which ones fit
and there are so many I haven’t looked in for years
after looking at a few I decide to take them home with me
and clear out the whole lot,
move it all home
I try to remember where I have parked the car
and I see there is a wardrobe, cupboard and draws full of clothes and I think
Here we go again
Moving more stuff

And I realise I have clothes at another location too and that will needs clearing too. 

(plate by F. Norton, called 'Bless This House)

Saturday, 9 December 2017



Generative Drawing

In my studio..
I cannot write this anymore
I want to draw.

Later
In my studio once I was in the middle of the ‘sashiko Stitich ‘drawings.
I would stay late drawing and drawing into the night.
Repetitive action
With dip pen and ink
Some black
Some gold ink.

That was before
A long time before the tempera work, the ‘Interrupted Pattern’ series
Seven years difference.

The repetitive action of process drawing or as Louise Hopkins calls it Generative drawing
Altering boundaries and transforming territories.
The use of gold
The Rococo Minimalism

Why process drawing?
Creating lines of text-like marks
Bands of drawn scripts with very slight variation
A ripple through the sequence.

For the lapis and the gold
Hand drawn matrices
For the structure of slight discrepancy, an oscillation
Again a slight undulation in the skeleton
Which show subtly in the skin.

A sea swell
A disparity in the surface not seen at first glance
But when looking
And looking hard, meditating, concentrating, drifting

The line flexes, gathers, breathes.