Ping Ear

One advantage of painting over writing, there needn’t be words. Where is there writing without words? I want to read that.    

New Cat, Mew Cat

Have you seen the new cat? How could I miss? Big cat. And fast. The new cat changes a lot. Big house, zero lot. So comes here. Our lives will never be the same. They never were the same. What were we doing? Waiting. Waiting for what? It’s what we do. How does the new…

This is not an address.

 (‘`) a d dress a peach’s dappled red lit dimple dot if you like green leaves shading rust rolling in the other way round like a fuzzy bulb globe plan draw lips over the peach skin and rub speak into ink flesh until every juice puckers sprinkle. Don’t handle or touch this stone. Simply lean…

The Assumption: A Graphic Post

We’re in primary school art class, where the students have been told to draw a picture of a house. Francine draws this: “What’s this?” Missus Portmanteau, Francine’s art teacher, asks, pointing to the big red circle in the sky. “It looks like a big rock is about to fall on your house.” Francine is nonplussed in…

Sidewalk Chalk Pastel with Haiku

Over at Miriam’s Well, an invitation to a haiku. And why not? As it happened, I was working on a post of pics that lacked captions, not that they needed any, but a bit of word garnish on a gallery augments the gadzooks. The haiku, posted on Miriam’s site, came in walking stride: a            long            old            side           …