have you left? or always leaving, temporary retreat, tactic of choice. from the leaving, what holds the gap, is there anything to hold...

never an island always a web.

the end of the journey is given the glory whilst the ebb and the flow and the grit of gestation hold the form

the path curves to the right, the hill layers in folds, trees striate, branches bifurcate, twigs are leading me round and through a...

holding the apple, holding the worm, we have to take our chances, lightly the wood is ours to trespass

the hill and i spiral hand-in-hand, walking some golden section.

the leaves are lit a brazier in the window an architecture of solace an emblem that claims us

allegiances to distance, resistance, time breath, earth, kin

does it matter how long parts cast off lie dormant?

Go! find your own way home not in the slip stream of habit but naked along new paths.

let us sift again through the co-ordinates of our memory, filter feeders on moments of love

a begonia of three generations illuminates the grand room as we register loss, reserves shaken and how shocks to the system bleed the...

colour becomes manifest saturated with sound energy, pink gold trumpets dawn striping the wood, sending grey to lilac.

I am holding my forehead to the ground Whilst embers settle on my back And seeds turn in the earth

eye in the skies dome, welling light.

are we back? did you notice? back in the same old puddle? let’s give up all the words.

It doesn’t take much, a small parting of the way, a shift of surfaces an incision, a gap, a game of chance, of give and take, odds on...

returning to the field, returning to my knees the stack kindles and burns the passion of the tree

a tree sparks in the dark greening above the felled stack, the symmetry is an alter lining me up to fall to my knees.

change walks with you in the lee of any approach the shadow of things ending and beginning.