Magic stuff

Re-generation, I wrote this piece below quite a while ago, for a Zine called men (d) on a theme of regeneration. Noticing others shares around easter and eggs over recent days… and a friend sharing her bleed and more with me and others this morning… I am bringing this piece back into the spring light. […]

Don’t make a fuss, that’s not what we do… us. Do you remember that lad that went under the bus, got right up and hopped to the pavement, and sat there saying; “Don’t fuss with uz, it’s just me arm and me hip and that, where’s me hat? I don’t want to look like a

What, how, where is my thisness built, found, unraveled, revealed, nurtured and shared and allowed to be?  Many years ago I worked under the care and guidance of a woman who gave me her time and attention and support. She grew up in, and still lives in Kansas. She used to visit me several times over

Away towardWith withoutHere beyondNoing yesingAhead behindKnowing guessingWinning losingOpen closeHold releaseTaking givingReject chooseAccept resistListening ignoringAttention driftGoing returningSeeing beyondLiving dyingBeing beyondLaughing cryingTo fromUs themYou meOpposite sameLove shame. The verb to ward, to guard, protect, keep watch over. Also, to ward off, turn away, deflect, repel. Finding a way, options, choices, decisions, arriving.Finding what was once here is

As I went to wash last nights dishes this morning… (yeah, I used to think that was gross… now I’m older though…) the words, wish washing the dishes, showed up internally, more as a feeling than as words, somewhere between my chest and not quite the top of my head. This then became a proposal,

Thisness, these two paragraphs from cut ups that were taken from something I read recently. You can see the original writing and the pieces I clipped from the whole below. The bravery of transcendence into the unknown, in multiple contexts, all set to discuss creation.Regardless of interpretation, moving towards the creation of the cosmos, shaping

I wrote the piece below a while back.Finding it again this morning reminds me that what I write, and the ways I chose to write, reflects where I was at the time of that writing, and where I am today. From a little while back then…Yesterday I was on a train coming home to the

Last Monday morning, 16th of March, 9am, there was a programme on Radio 4 that included these words that I have only just looked at a few days after I listened to that programme and told myself I wanted to write about some stuff about it as it resonated and reverberated within me and my

What comes to mind for me first when thinking into what fuels me to write? Ok, lets do the fossils, that old trauma, those memories of past pain, embarrassment, fear and humiliation… those parts of me that whether settled and carried lightly now or not… have the capacity to play up, seemingly at random and