Risen

He is Risen! Yew...

Art's Neurosis

A memory of Kreisler once:
At some recital in this same city,
The seats all taken, I found myself pushed
On to the stage with a few others,
So near that I could see the toil
Of his face muscles, a pulse like a moth
Fluttering under the fine skin,
And the indelible veins of his smooth brow.

I could see, too, the twitching of the fingers,
Caught temporarily in art’s neurosis,
As we sat there or warmly applauded
This player who so beautifully suffered
For each of us upon his instrument.

So it must have been on Calvary
In the fiercer light of the thorns’ halo:
The men standing by and that one figure,
The hands bleeding, the mind bruised but calm,
Making such music as lives still.
And no one daring to interrupt
Because it was himself that he played
And closer than all of them the God listened.

R.S. Thomas - The Musician

And He Takes

The hand that gives and takes...
internet is back up and running. Yew.

Please

Ooolala. Swift right peeler. More of these please....

Cold Tree

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
-Sylvia Plath (from The Moon and the Yew Tree)

Dead Ship A-Towing

Like it or hate it... the ship has arrived for a water grave.

Acquisition

My recent score... Naval Architecture of Planing Hulls by Lindsay Lord.

Death Rattle

The age-long death rattle of sandstone by an insistent sea. Macs Point NSW.

The Spanish Bowline will be firing on all pistons soon.... holidays are coming. Listen! I can hear them...