'The Hay Wain' by John Constable

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A Singular Moment

I saw you pale blue dreaming
In curtain-crack light,
and in yesterday’s sunset
as mists blew in and away.
And my gray lifted; some semblance of calm
amidst these endless gales.
that parch throat and water eyes.

Were you peaceful, then?
Are you quieter now?
That sand that remained in tidal pools-that grit that tore
Away your skin and rubbed me less raw--
such is our way for this peculiar present
where no news intrudes.
Here--here! is chance to reflect.

To hear yourself.
To listen to stories, to know this.
complete with images to savour; echelons of black
birds sharp, whites of spray, red pinpricks, momentary salvations.
And for me, the when and where to find clearer skies,
Of how to say goodbye and how to return,
Here.

Scenes from the Asylum

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Hello? Hello?

....is that the NRA? Yeah, I'm looking for some, well, lessons.
Yeah, hi! Dick here....listen...

My Eyes Have Seen the Glory

circa. 11am, Saturday, 11th February, 2006, National Gallery, London, UK

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