Category: Twiglets
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Twiglet #44 “a bare room”
Dear Departed It looks like the outside in here with shadows feasting on dust, on webs and invisible draughts, and dried leaves dancing the floor. A creaking space. Empty. No echoes of your goodbye goodbye goodbye. Twiglet #44 “a bare room”
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Twiglet #43
The Colour of Air It smells of cow, he says, and I tell him that’s because this is old farm land. Cows and pigs. And we watch the evening sky lose its draping Sussex blue, the air folding into thick hints of pink — my reckoning, it’s a few centuries worth of urine rising up…
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Twiglet #39
Brittle Courage There’s a snake under the porch. It’s smooth and black as bitumen, and I mutter encouragement, “go away, go away” I say …… but it seems stupid-calm compared to my brittle courage, and my heart thumps in my ears. Twiglet #39
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Twiglet #37: See It
For Twiglet #37: The phrase is “See It“. I stray from the usual poetry or prose approach. This print encapsulates the phrase “See It” for me. I may try to throw a few phrases at this week’s Twiglet, if I’m inspired beyond this painting.
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Twiglet #35
A Change of Heart i am the smell of rain, wind napping in trees. i am lily-clouds chasing light and dark. cool as a shiver, i am a change of heart. for Twiglet #35 “Lily-Clouds”
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31 July 2017
To Stitch Time She finally found a way to say goodbye. Mum took Dad’s remains to his favourite river, tipped out the urn, and he slipped away. A sliver of cloudy light that spread like spilt milk. She stood there, in the shining rain. Quiet. Thoughts lost in the pine-scented air, Mum wearing an old…
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Twiglet #31
The Small Of It i. Vinegar keeps shells from cracking but broken eggs are just small mistakes. II. Vinegar kept the shells from cracking but we still have to peel them. Twiglet #31
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Twiglet #29
The 11:42 TRAIN TO LONDON This is the London Bridge service, a recorded announcement. Sorry. excuse me. a girl with a daisy chain tattoo takes the window seat. She’s talking on her phone. from Brighton the announcement continues I’m bloody annoyed too. I’m not his substitute, says the girl. She looks out the window. Excusez-moi…
It's Still Life 