Category: Journal
-
19 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
18.09.23 8:03Nobody on the beach this morning. A pitched wind; high seas. Not like yesterday’s sun and Sunday. There’s a scattered kaleidoscopic of litter. Left to blow away. 8:15Sails up. Jibs full. Hulls cut the waves, tack and turn. Out-pacing seagulls, who shout at the wind. 08:30My hair’s never been longer than my shoulder. I’ve…
-
18 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
17.09.23 07:53 (Kerteminde Denmark)There’s a man walking a small white dog on the beach – it hates waves and disappears into the long grass. Seagulls above, circling, searching for breakfast. Or the dog. Two women breast stroke against the Baltic waves. 8:20Those two women still dripping of Baltic, walk down the street wearing bathrobes and…
-
17 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
16.09.23 07:50 (Münster, Germany)Breakfast: Birchers (overnight oats) made with yogurt and blueberries. It sticks to your ribs. He says, It’s also stuck on my t-shirt. 08:10“Oh, look,” he says, “there’s a young person! What’s he doing here?” I tell him, He’s probably selling walking sticks. It’s off-peak rates again. Pensioners on the move. Come September,…
-
16 September: Idling Thoughts on a Road Trip
15.09.23 05:10 (West Sussex)It’s autumn, dead end gardening, rose crush, rudbeckia rot, a grim faced dance, and the moon hangs like a fallen log. I’m not pleasant company before sunrise. 08:25 My granny, the one with the goats and white rabbits, was a herbalist. She said that hair is magic. Don’t let it fall into…
-
21 August: Spontaneity
The sun has found me, its warmth strikes my face. I half expect God to say, “Lift up your face,” but all I hear is bird song. And it’s enough. This is my daily walk. Footpaths. Encroaching brambles. Shoe laces that won’t stay tied; it’s a gradual undoing. I’m undone by a newfound appreciation for…
-
3 August: The July Journal 19.7.23
Wednesday, 19 July: Tiled Rooftops Arrivederci Italia.This is Bourgogne,and it’s about wine today. Vineyards, and wooden presses.Dust-flaked villages,and yellow stone houseswith shutters closed on white heat. But I want to see Beaune.Next time, he says.Which meansI’m not going to see Beaune. Arrived.Dijon.The city.Not the mustard. Nevertheless,I plan to buy mustard.Lots of it.For not seeing Beaune.…
-
2 August: The July Journal 21.7.23
Date: 21.7 Over therein the midst of wind turbines,where a field of greenis glad of rain,and a line of treesform strokes on the horizon,stand a few Charolaise facingaway from the weather. It’s Van Gogh.His fields,an infinity of sunflowers,heavy heads, downcastbrown and drying in the sun.His fieldsbaled hay, bronzed and amberunder coiffed clouds. A farmer.His wife.A…
-
1 August: A Cherita Poem, Napoleon’s Face
A Cherita Poem: Napoleon’s Face I saw Napoleon’s face today. A statue. Stone blackas any onyx starless night. Eyes closed to us.A sign read, Do Not Touch.No need. I knew he’d be cold. Written for Paul’s Wombwell Rainbow #poeticFormsChallenge . A cherita consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then…
-
30 July: The July Journal 18.7.23
18 July: Severe Heat Warning (130 words, -1 minute reading time) Cannes streets empty.Prismed heat and shards of sun. Power failures.No aircon.No hot water A cold shower is luxury. We left Cannes that afternoon,thinking north might be cooler.But it’s not. SatNav has heatstroke.Did 4 wrong turns.Put us on the tram tracks,and then in the bus…
-
27 July: Climbing Frames
14 July: Climbing Frames Last day in Milan.It’s raining.He wants to go to the parkand doesn’t care if it’s wetting down. He’s a 3-year old pirate,standing on the top of the climbing frame,shouting over the shrillnessof cicadas. My son’s beautiful boy. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the…
It's Still Life 