January 2018. Studio time, telescoped limbs, and dreaming…


The poetry of form, the poetry of water, of paint, of flesh, of whimper, of memory, of winter.

Of unwanted limbs and restless hands. Of unanswered cries, of unstroked palms; of tiny hands worn to stumps through wanting.

Of motherhead-grown legs & a face lamb formed wet on the hillside, left in the sun for bees to breathe in, and sap to suckle; flesh with mist, limbs black and languid…cot-babe opened out on hillside, island-baby black-rocked and wild, bird-beloved, beaten out by Picts.


Babe on a swing Watercolour 2018   arc limbs watercolour 2018

Sea Breath Watercolour 2018   With a high view Watercolour January 2018


The One with the flight-burrowed breast
Owl-hollowed heart-nest
limbs bent as branches bleached,
Hammered in place on the hillside,
mountain-top white where bird voice high-pitched shrieks…

A plea in a high place,

snow-clean, praying, solitary, sleeping.