The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Friday, 24 June 2011
The Jinksy Mountains
as sculpted by the sun,
blurred lovingly by heat haze
on a day that's just begun.
These are The Fairy Mountains
on which bright pixels dance,
and wandering through their valleys,
the mind is in a trance.
These are The Peaceful Mountains
where never wind has stirred,
where no sound breaks the silence
except the sound of bird.
These are The Slate-Grey Mountains
prospectors trod of old;
their jaggedness their beauty,
their colours come from gold.
These are The Jinksy Mountains
(not Jinxy, understand),
which if not wholly natural...
Blow me, they're Jinksy-planned!
You thought them just a picture?
You're wrong, my friend, you're wrong:
they're Land Art for the record.
She's another Richard Long!