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Showing posts from August, 2013


A great tenderness felt
for a fly
on my knee
this cool August afternoon
as it rubs
its legs together
and i do not move
or swat it away...

And i felt
a great tenderness
a few days ago
towards a baby bird's
frantic flutterings
as it quickly regained
the open sky
on entering the room
where i lay...

And in the dark
on my back
looking thru the skylight
around mid-night
on many nights
a great tenderness
towards the stars above...

And on the radio
Joni Mitchell sings...
"we are stardust
we are golden
and we gotta
get ourselves
back to the garden..."

And the rhythms
of my heart
more settled
as i feel
a great tenderness
towards this soft body
and all that is...
Golden GOJI Hermitage
Twenty-seventh of  August

Feet wet with dew...a little dust in eyes...Chafey's Path...early morning traffic hum...i'd come blackberrying here with my mother...breath not an issue now...and ghosts must wear this path...for there are not many on the way...

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My kitchen s(h)elf - (fr Helen Bansemer)

* Raining. Autumnal. But we've had a valid summer in England. i think of moving away from a propensity of raw plant foods  (more raw in summer), to something more warming  (more cooked in winter) = MISO. Helen Bansemer, on facebook, put miso into my head, earlier today. i feel like putting-in an order to my favourite SOUTH RIVER MISO COMPANY in Vermont. i  love their miso to the extent that i have never  thrown away even a single jar when empty. It is the best, organic, chunky, unpasteurised miso ever! And with the summer heat going  and cooler autumn approaching, the company will begin shipping again. Ferment plus too much warmth = gas and possible explosions during transit!!! So, no shipping in summer. i like 4 seasons. i do not, now, seek a warmer climate, for a home. Dorset will do me. And the middle way will do me for when i look at my 
s(h)elf. In the kitchen, you can begin to cook your life - What you eat, is what you are... i go to my kitchen s(h)elf and pull some books for in…

Hasty cheese sandwich in hand...hurrying to catch 253 bus to Abbotsbury on spur of the moment in conversation with brother on phone from Oz...hoping to see Marie Laywine at her studio and have a half-decent chat before she goes to Java. It's a beautiful day and quitessentially English in's raining. A passenger on the bus is talking loudly about ballet and modern dance...the rain ever harder is flooding the gutters and the bus throws a wash much like a speedboat at sea...Langton Herring...Rodden, where the poet Elsa Corbluth may still be alive and well despite illneses of late...she elicited praise from Ted Hughes for her poetry years ago and was a winner of the Bridport Prize one year...i have not seen her in a while...Marie Laywine's studio is near the heart of Abbotsbury...only 25 minutes to get there...she is sitting doing a crossword from The Daily Telegraph...we greet each other and she protests the fotos i am taking good-naturedly...i sit across the table from her and she offers me some cheese pieces left over from her own lunch and tells me about her "project" in Java and her "magic cupboard".."what's in it?" i ask..."Magic, of course," she says...i wish, by magic, i could have stayed all afternoon...there was a great humour between us...but...

Marie Laywine was born in Canada but has been in Dorset for over 20 years. Her studio is an old chapel in the 600 year-old village of Abbotsbury. Her work is well represented in collections throughout Canada, U.S.A., Switzerland, Australia and the U.K. * Artist's Statement: In my painting I work with what I call the "interior landscape"; I use images and ideas from my dreams to help me represent visually the mountain ranges and coastal plains within a person. * **************