- Hello there
- What's your name?
- Do you come here often?
The sun came in like a pack of orange spaniels, through the window over the ledge, under the curtain on their bellies creeping and bending.
Sometimes I feel so small and insignificant in this giant universe rather like this rinky dink text size that doesn't get used that often.
There, spring lambs jam the sheepfold. In air Stilled, silvered as water in a glass Nothing is big or far. The small shrew chitters from its wilderness Of grassheads and is heard. Each thumb-sized bird Fits nimble-winged in thickets, and of good color.
Cloudrack and owl-hollowed willows slanting over The bland Granta double their white and green World under the sheer water And ride that flux at anchor, upside down. The punter sinks his pole. In Byron's pool Cattails part where the tame cygnets steer.
Pride juggles with her toppling towers, They strike the sun and cease, But the firm feet of humility, They grip the ground like trees.
A nostalgic visit to the attic stumbling across old music memories
Stowed Away were kind enough to interview me about art, design and local life
A write-up and tour of the exhibition I did in February at Winns Gallery
Cheese McAdams, King of Harpsichords
Ben is really good at breaking code and accidentally deleting repositories. Everything he touches turns to mud and potatoes.