New book thinking about a set of new paintings. The pictures are upside down:

Spaghetti junctions 
Off piste skiing tracks
Pile of logs in France
Cheese fondue as depicted in Asterix 

Heavy Alpine theme here. I wondered when skiing whether it is a stigma to write poems in the social ski scene, and a stigma to write poems about skiing in the poetry scene. 


In the cold, cold canyon there are layers of rock;
Some are gneiss, some are not.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid sit by a fire in the desert and for the whole scene they say nothing, because one of them is an introvert and one of them is an extrovert who is learning to become more comfortable with silence. If they were speaking, however, they would be speaking in Iambic Pentameter. It's bizarre. 

Nice piece from c. 2006, in situ at the house of dear friends Tom and Cathy 
Pineapple by my mum. 1977
I did this, found it at home. It's a masterpiece but looks a bit twee from here. A Christmas gift for my parents- Began it en plein air.

Walid Siti at Edge of Arabia

Rhyming tennis poem

I became aware of the Renaissance in Florence
Age sixteen (Needed my memory to be jogged more recently)
And I became aware of trams in Leipzig, Germany, 
But it was really driven home living in Edinburgh these last six years. 
And so at Wimbledon 2014, televised on TV,
These two subjects meet
As I watch from a pub in Battersea. 


From last summer. Made it into a tent for the Assembly House show. 

I have been thinking of writing Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid into a play, just out of interest really. I'm also thinking I'd make the set to go with it- lots of cactuses. 


Discussed with Tom Hartley Booth the idea of a chess match between two pro chess players using a chess board made of cheese and pieces made of cheese. When a piece is taken, it gets eaten. The notion of a ripe Brie rook oozing round the board is appealing. 


Vineyards, paint colours and paving are interesting me at the moment. I would like to plant a vineyard or two. Farrow and Ball colours are marvellous because they have a broad sweep of names, from the accurate abstract (Elephant's Breath is the famous one- it is grey, basically) to the misleading literal (Light Grey) as well as ones that are exclusive, like Hardwick White, which only makes sense if you've been to Hardwick (I haven't. It's not white, that's for sure). 

Paving is interesting because it's like hatching on the floor of a town or city. Juxtaposed against long grass= lovely stuff. 
Thinking about cutting out the sky from every photo in the Ocado Life magazine and making a blue collage. 
New poem on 
It's about arriving in Mexico. Everyone was happy to be flying Air Alaska, Bridget and I included. Free pretzels! The pilot was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. I seem to be interested in mountain colours at the moment. 

I'm also interested in Matisse's Cartier Bresson book cover, complex carbs and writing stories. Have been thinking about Richard Scarry's book Busy, busy world. 
Thinking about still lifes arranged in smily faces after making this birthday card for Simon Summers. 


I have not been to Portugal or Greece but I have seen Mamma Mia and I have eaten at Nandos. Background to the poem Portugese on 

I am thinking about books and the possibility of building a false gallery within a library, and then within that building a makeshift library called the Library of Kindness. I am thinking that the books might be free and never have a deadline for returning them... 

Between Two Holy Days


I am a broken man
in a paper hat
being taught to celebrate

I am being unravelled
but understanding
how close the Christ child leans
as I spend this holy day
close to tears

I have a backbone
that's not my own,
holding up these things
and all is well
because all of these things will be
so emphatically well
at the end

I am a broken man
with a half-grasp on many truths
and a half-recognition
of what is good, asking,
Does integrity hurt?

Hot Chicks An Easter Hymn (Sing in Dull Tragedy)

Hey, this city,
You with your streets lined with sex and money
There are miracles on your pavements
The dead man stands
(You are no longer enough for me)

Stand up
Something that's extraordinary (now)

I fell in lust with an idea
Of being in with the hot chicks
For the sake of me
My name on lips
Immediately meet my percieved needs

...And then the sun rose...

Stand up
Something that's extraordinary

There are gaps to be filled
Up and down these restless hills
On these orphaned streets
I like the idea
I like the look of light
I like the metaphor but it's not
really a metaphor, is it,
when the sun comes up?

I have re-invented my blog, like Jasper Johns did with his oeuvre. And like Piet Mondrian didn't. 


Work in studio and sketchbook, thinking about "the shadow of a big rock in a thirsty land" and the desert places rejoicing. All is well