Elegy for Tracey

I A dream in which the women were like Venus made me think of art and you. You’re a bot­ti­celli-baby; if I dipped a sheet of paper into your mind, it would come out marbled in oils and water­col­our and with bits of moul­ded clay on the...

Unsolicited Advice

Wor­ship where you can lest life become empty earth­en­ware or barren circus rings. For some it’s a world of water­col­our mood: search for it, hold it fast if you find it. Where you feel like scream­ing, do. Sound also can lift into the void and...