01 10 07
At breakfast trying to listen to some great easy listening over the tannoy, but Rob Brydon and Tracy Emin here are doing a good job at driving me nuts clanging and
banging about getting ready for he next coachload of Englaise
Through green Spain to Santander
Park up at the port in my line
Go to the shop ‘fantastico’ and by some Rioja from Haro - Rioja Alto which I suppose means altitude
Carrying 20 bottles of wine back to the car nearly kills me I must say
didn’t think to take the trolley
The English live on chips it seems
I don’t, I ........
waiting now
Then the french experience ferrying Brits home from Spain
Leaving Santander
Mountains in the west, soft hazed blue
the sun breaks through the autumn haze
distance all the way to Galicia
leaving mountains, again to the south
My problems with watercolour are technical ones
I like the initial mark, or a record of the mark/stroke
buts this gets dissolved in the process
back to calligraphy
three hours leaving santander - sicilia and the south
i can watch the sea for hours
It is myriad
almost infinite
nearly uncountable
and a mirror to the sky
uncountable
infinite
myriad
today it is like emulsion
mosaic
patterned
like cheap copper tables
it is all surface
as if nothing will come from beneath
as a milked light
in space
it is itself
the wind has lent it some time
( like crossing that first time to Lewis)
passing into a remote twilight
leaving mountains to the east
finding mountains to the west
Elephant skin
tabioca'rd
viscous
oiled
like treacle
arcs
pitted, patin-ed fingers of wind
poked, pattered
spread
multi- tudinous
refracted
this diamond sea - arabesque
the edge of the wake
is a curve like deep sea beasts
the curl as back
like star maps - reversed light now as cross- stitch
feckled
on the dark lips of mermaids
the skin surface
mottled and kissed
and then the ocean roll
from a big space
a time to not look beyond the subject
a spindled horizon
set dancing
( it’s own axis )
leaving land
the light of the sun
throws open, as a door
pathed
to the bulge of brightness
and a warmth
amongst a cool air
as from afar
countenance
meadowed air
brightness as to blind -
beyond gods shadow
( back to a northern clime where the sun is an event)
on leaving the south - behind
to itself
somewhere as a place
past a moment of youth
and into somewhere else
I put this
dip and brow
the golden flecks
twilight’s kiss
along the rim of the world
hasten to a dark
an infinite
held outward
cupped
placed
I sit on the deck and do the poetic thing
watch the sea and write stuff
did a watercolour
a finale to the trip -
that is why I like coming this way
You can watch the sea
it passes
appears the same
and passes
now its limbo time
had the meal
looked around the shop
read the headlines
‘ body found’
heard the banter
this is holiday time
I shouldn't be a snob buts its an English thing
there is no hope
normality
In the cabin
sea washes past through the hull
peoples voices in the corridor
banging about getting ready for he next coachload of Englaise
Through green Spain to Santander
Park up at the port in my line
Go to the shop ‘fantastico’ and by some Rioja from Haro - Rioja Alto which I suppose means altitude
Carrying 20 bottles of wine back to the car nearly kills me I must say
didn’t think to take the trolley
The English live on chips it seems
I don’t, I ........
waiting now
Then the french experience ferrying Brits home from Spain
Leaving Santander
Mountains in the west, soft hazed blue
the sun breaks through the autumn haze
distance all the way to Galicia
leaving mountains, again to the south
My problems with watercolour are technical ones
I like the initial mark, or a record of the mark/stroke
buts this gets dissolved in the process
back to calligraphy
three hours leaving santander - sicilia and the south
i can watch the sea for hours
It is myriad
almost infinite
nearly uncountable
and a mirror to the sky
uncountable
infinite
myriad
today it is like emulsion
mosaic
patterned
like cheap copper tables
it is all surface
as if nothing will come from beneath
as a milked light
in space
it is itself
the wind has lent it some time
( like crossing that first time to Lewis)
passing into a remote twilight
leaving mountains to the east
finding mountains to the west
Elephant skin
tabioca'rd
viscous
oiled
like treacle
arcs
pitted, patin-ed fingers of wind
poked, pattered
spread
multi- tudinous
refracted
this diamond sea - arabesque
the edge of the wake
is a curve like deep sea beasts
the curl as back
like star maps - reversed light now as cross- stitch
feckled
on the dark lips of mermaids
the skin surface
mottled and kissed
and then the ocean roll
from a big space
a time to not look beyond the subject
a spindled horizon
set dancing
( it’s own axis )
leaving land
the light of the sun
throws open, as a door
pathed
to the bulge of brightness
and a warmth
amongst a cool air
as from afar
countenance
meadowed air
brightness as to blind -
beyond gods shadow
( back to a northern clime where the sun is an event)
on leaving the south - behind
to itself
somewhere as a place
past a moment of youth
and into somewhere else
I put this
dip and brow
the golden flecks
twilight’s kiss
along the rim of the world
hasten to a dark
an infinite
held outward
cupped
placed
I sit on the deck and do the poetic thing
watch the sea and write stuff
did a watercolour
a finale to the trip -
that is why I like coming this way
You can watch the sea
it passes
appears the same
and passes
now its limbo time
had the meal
looked around the shop
read the headlines
‘ body found’
heard the banter
this is holiday time
I shouldn't be a snob buts its an English thing
there is no hope
normality
In the cabin
sea washes past through the hull
peoples voices in the corridor
1 comment:
You paint with words well.
'...problems with watercolour...'You describe it accurately. That's why the simpler forms of Sumi-E attract me. To suggest colour though through shades of grey....another challenge. Or by taking the colour away you see the bones. No-where to hide. Thinking out loud.
How can you not watch the sea for hours?
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