Monthly Archives: September 2014
Charles Bukowski – First Faxed Poem (and Last)
In February 1994 Charles Bukowski sent his first and sadly last faxed poem , that illustrates the excitement of when he had it installed
Allen Ginsberg
William S Burroughs – Shotgun Art
When he moved to Lawrence Kansas , began creating art by blasting spray paint cans over wood or canvas
Classic Cars in Prestatyn
A wonderful day in great company
Chris and I went to a weekend craft fair in Prestatyn last weekend and found a handful of classic cars in the car park by our venue. Chris is a classic car buff, show him a car and he can tell you car facts so that i often wonder how old he actually is. Me, well i love cars and driving and photography so i skipped out on our stall and went to photograph the cars. I have to ask what kind they are and then i have to get Chris to remember as i know i will forget but this time i remember there were a couple of Jaguar’s, a Triumph TR4 and a kit car, there was also a mini towing a tiny caravan and a Ford Cortina (i think). It was a…
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James Wan – Saw (short film )
lamp and silence
you can always find a helper
to dig your own grave,
the logical old mind
that grasps
within the brain
images thick as chocolate,
and arguing heart
will find a place to bury
but not here,
a sky blue vast
ocean of the above
crossed by vents
of expelled air,
it was as if the doctor
pissed in his own specimen pot
a give of gold warmth
to be dipped by another
to let you live by extension,
no more searching,
spade would cut a wound
hole expanding,
an expression of what was vast
keep it to yourself
as earth opens
and you become
what once would of been
a miner
interested in gynaecology
are you a pedestrian
crossing that narrow inlet
of water,
once tormented by salmon
quick flickering to spawn,
no cars or vehicles
yet still you walk,
with a wake about your boots
head down,
light was changing,
and that thread of thought
was anchoring your brow down,
a kiss has a momentum
beyond the lips
carried on a narrow breath
that would never
bring you to a standstill,
salt on eyelashes
cast by the sea
tainting tongue
drying lips,
once clear
return to the cottage
owned by our cities
last blind man,
and wait at the glass
