Raw

Raw

(With thanks and grat­itude to Robert Borden) 1. 2017 was a good year for fear, a good year for screaming Not like some other good Amer­ican years but it slid out of A year of celebrity death and tele­vised suf­fering that we were all Only too...
Trust

Trust

Step out with me — the rocks and the waves are calling and I have some­thing to show you. Step out with me — the ocean is singing to me, songs of spiral shells, seahorses, anemones and brine. Step out — you’re safe with me. It’s almost mid­summer,...
Taming the sea

Taming the sea

I My daughter is stretched out on white sand, feeding the ocean. She says she is taming the sea — its wild­ness nibbles at her fin­gers. We have seen no dol­phins today, nor any stin­grays nor whales nor any­thing bigger than spiky brown coral that has...
Words

Words

Rough-cut paper tells you it’s a first edi­tion and the must takes you back — Years spent, nose down. Ink-smudges and foun­tain nibs, the romance Of Umberto Eco and sharp-edged medi­eval scores. There’s a deep Con­nec­tion through time to these...
Flamenco

Flamenco

Long fin­gers and silver rings; that rhythm; that flight Of fore­finger down a string; that tap of the fin­ger­tips Against the golpeador — one of your legs is crossed over The other and it all dis­ap­pears but for the music. That slight frown on your brow...
Memento mori

Memento mori

His mother painted it, in another life. It is small — less than half a metre across, not quite square. At first glance, it’s nothing but greys, as if it could be Some 19th cen­tury indus­trial city­scape or Soviet town, But closer in, you see...