numbers. friday can be thirteen, or something else entirely. is it memory, history, some thing. he titled it profanity, the subconcious. so we write, critique, move dots and numbers. deal with the outcrops, note the faith. friday can be thirteen, or something else entirely. sbm.
Category: Member Posts
. reinvention, another day .
seems i have reinvented everything quieter than before. wet autumn days or is it winter, the change comes gradually. i dreamed a cloud of falling leaves, awake to find it is so. it is so very quiet here today. sbm.
.. the critic ..
this critic is awkward, sees the good, feels the grace. how to say it, that the mind wanders, that filth detracts from the everyday. that stitching can be rhythmic, and never mind the capitals. clever words confound, googling interupts the flow whilst dots are alaways useful. i have never done this before. sbm.
Art, Coffee, Tea and Blogs
Last week I told you I got a new coffee pot. Well a number of you wanted to see what it looks like so this week I’m posting a picture of my 1940’s Flamingo, Hall, Drip O Lator. I’ll be on the search for others as cool. http://hyperallergic.com/So sit back enjoy your drink and let’s…
. the pink ball.
bought for my house, have reconsidered, it will be for you. a gift, alongside other gifts. look after it. found in a fishing shop. gentle hue, alongside floats, and fish lures, now that is a wonderful word. over the road, the water man said all looked well, so we glanced out at the muddy building…
. letter to a friend, eight .
it has been a while since we spoke. even now, you will not receive this letter, along with others not sent. some went away to exhibition, while others remain in my head. it is the rule, no contact. today is cooler, we change the clocks soon. i suppose you are nearly retired, yet i have…
. day four .
slightly interesting. all plans cease, while other symptoms come on board. yet think hard, while all is safe and cosy here, others sleep in mud. sbm.
. falling days .
songs come via friends, the books we read, the place we breathe, songs of the fading,of life ** the words hit our hearts, and sink in to stay, to pledge another stage set, small life ** driving the land, the songs, carry us along, to our place, the constant places, we think don’t change, **…
Art, Coffee Tea and Blogs
I added a vintage coffee pot found at a local junk store to my collection. But before it goes on the shelf it must be tried. So I’ve got my coffee and here are your blog sites for the week. http://structureandimagery.blogspot.com/ I usually go to this site twice a week. There are many artists…
. found .
he is a man, who helped another man, bravely. small plastic, hiding his love, only 20p. bought him, pointed out his bravery to others, the beauty of a man helping. another man. i have not yet taken his photograph. sbm.
.other people's children .
i guess yours sleep in bed, clean and cosy, safe, loved and cherished. others love and cherish , yet their families sleep in mud, on streets, wherever they can find. they have left the place where bombs drop on children. yes. a person simply decides to drop barrel bombs on children. on everything. now be…
. credo .
dreams, hours long. in tune . there came men with music, hours long. some times things seem so very well, brings guilt for the others. the process has to stop, some point. space is cleaned, prepared again. credo. all things pass. sbm.