Tag Archives: Memory

a tree speaks

In November there will be an exhibition at St Margaret’s House in Edinburgh called Grown Together. Timed to coincide with the launch of the Tree Charter, this will feature the work of nineteen artists with a shared interest in trees.  I’ve been working on video material for a loop which will be part of a small installation.  The videos combine ambient audio captured in some local woodlands with animated  text and readings of some of my poems from the small collection called Drawing breath.

Here’s a test piece for one of my videos.  (Please ignore the headphone graphic near the start – it’s just there to indicate that there is audio to passing visitors).

The poem takes a tree’s-eye-view of passing humans, coming around to memory and how remembering works, or doesn’t…

A new film-poem of this poem … November 2021

The Divvy

Pneumatic Capsule

Thanks to Pathlost for use of this image.

An end-stop announcement.
A thwumping air-cushioned arrival,
Buffered by more constant background hiss.

In my internal bakery Bread Street
Remains an imagined sliced-pan provider,
An avenue of the jeelie piece perhaps,
But it was also where we would queue.

St Cuthbert took, but gave a little back,
Before loyalty was carded, or
Nectar rendered accountable,
There was The Dividend.

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Smith Corona Fugue

smith-coronaI recognise you.
Beetle black carapace,
A ribbed kist of coated ply with a
Fist moulded leather handle.

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Heliopause 2: A three tap toast

IMG_1182[vernal equinox, northern hemisphere]

The yule has turned
A quarter past
To this three-sixtyfived,
White spring equinox,
And six legged we two
Walk once again the path to
Carrot cairn.

At the first of three
I bid the silent tree
A fingerpost toast,
A triple tap:

For my quickened feet that
Bring me here and wander yet,
For living loved in hope,
For absent friends alive
As mind’s moment.

Angled canine brows
Question my ritual:
C’mon then, let’s go!

Digital Dust


Oh how I long for some
Digital dust.
An aspirational application
restoring the kindesses of time
to all these frozen fragments
Of artistry, stranded
Still in binary data.
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