Archive for November, 2009

A Request

Lost the horizon,

Was it this draw or that?

Is it wrong to wish for

a horizon that’s flat?

Thats free from these mountains

That rip at my limbs

Thats free just to let me

Easily win.

Just me and my books and a thumbed deck of cards,

And accomplishments captured and arranged all in jars

And maybe a hammock, where I can sit back and tell

Of the battles and trials, the taste touch and smell

Does there always have to be another horizon,

Can’t i stay static

And still for a while?


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How To Hold

How do you stay grounded…


… and still follow the balloons?

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It is healthy to repaint ones life every now and then.


Give it a glistening lick. For peeling can happen even to the best of life’s walls.

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Chacers a chap,

Shakespeare’s a laugh,

Coleridge is kind if you take the corn with the chaff.

Marlowe’s a hoot,

with Austen to boot,

Poe is great if your in no need of a pun…

But can I tell you

my deepest dark



I miss reading for FUN.


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Beyond Tapestry

Last year I was asked to create a tapestry fit for the new chapel my school was making.

It was suggested that I include the Litany Of Reconciliation, which is all about the requests for forgiveness. But half way through trimming the fabric for the words ‘Father Forgive’ for the seventh time, I wondered about the effectiveness of my hours. Surely before forgiveness comes a recognition that there is a god, then that he is good, and then you have to actually ask if forgiveness is needed from you. I felt like that not everyone at Bluecoat was at that stage, and they didn’t need to be … and a suddenly had an overwhelming itch to meet them where they were, not where anyone thought they should be.

I thought about meeting my 13 year old self, with her opinions and her ponytail and her rucksack of influences and messes and questions. And I thought about what I would have liked to tell her.

Here’s the finished thing;

made with Batik inking on fabric, ink stamps and photo transfering

Here’s what it says;


… The stigma of our childhood… The failures of our past … The preconceptions for our future… The doubt of the wind … The limits of our bodies and the boundaries of our imaginations.

…above culture and religion and the farce of the human reality, beyond dreaming and waking and working. Beyond ambition and temper and the rights and wrongs.

Above the do’s and the don’ts. Above the cargo of our lips and the weight in our ears. Above and Beyond the statues and the stars and the gates of right thinking … There is a field.

God? I will meet you there.

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(I pay for people’s penny thoughts before I spend my life.)

… If I spend my life with my head in these …


… will I see everything, or nothing?

its hard to tell, sometimes whether you are gazing clearly in to a world of intricacies or you are in fact staring at the dark underside of your eyelids.

Do books open me, or do they shut me?

Through them am I expanded, as if in childbirth, liberated as if governed by a just leader, made happier as if stepping into the sun of a shaded galaxy –

or am I buried in a world, in worlds, that I can forever know about, but never touch? People I can cry for, but never with. Valleys I can see, but never roam.

Is literature a wrinkling monk under a warm spiralling tree of wisdom, or is he a parent that would teach you all about the world out there, but forever bolt the door?

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Domestic Landscape

Domestic Landscape

My first firstyear photoshop project

try swimming in THAT sea!

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