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Hand Writing


Below is selection of poetry which relates to my visual work. I thrive because I believe darkness, difficulty and even death can give rise to creativity, grace and joy.



Are on that island

Alone and cold.
Here the shortest days drop and close,

Here, the darkest nights drop and close in.

And you, naked

Beneath the sheets of night,

Alone in the bed,

Shiver and quake.

You reach for the covers

But they have dropped to the floor below,

And, like in a bad dream, they

Are out of reach

And in the sea

That writhes around you.

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