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...
The final images below are from my now defunct website which I decided to revisit (cannibalise, if you will) a while back. They are a few ye...
Below is the third - and, so far as I can tell at present, the final - draft of a poem for which I have been quite unable to find a title to...
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Land Art - en plein air and indoors : Two Poems
stand in isolation
on a sandy inland beach.
I take a curving path
towards them. As I walk
they also move.
glide around each other,
always within touching distances.
Between their three trunks -
a glistening stretch
Most entrances are taped
though boats sail peacefully.
Covering a panel -
thick viridian green -
I blend in ochre, umber, several greys,
then deeply score from left to right.
A sharp tool
exposing the bare board -
a furrow through a tract of land
where centuries of feet have worn
a path, a highway, movements of a man
or men. I scrape
and scratch - the paint
is hardening -
the first score's perpendicular,
then drag in white
for chalk and black
for coal. I see it
as a sort of land art
grown at home
diminutive in scale.