February 16, 2013 - Army of Ink Holding Books
Her heart leapt so impossibly loud it stole her every sense .
But it was always the book, held preciously close to chest, that caught and consoled her misbehaving mind.
(Clunk & Jam book).
Her heart leapt so impossibly loud it stole her every sense .
But it was always the book, held preciously close to chest, that caught and consoled her misbehaving mind.
(Clunk & Jam book).
Comes and Goes .
This condition of mind. It comes. And it goes. And it comes back again. So if I have nothing right now. What do I have? The knowledge that it comes. And it goes. And it comes back again ….
Footnote: There’s something deeply consoling about the notion of endlessness. It’s the opposite of being STUCK. And the understanding that things come and go. And if you replace the ‘condition of mind’ with … good and bad times; anxiety and fear; happiness; sadness, grief, despair; relationships; worries and so on – it is the transient (cyclic) nature of things that provides reassurance for getting through – coming out the other side.
(Clunk & Jam book 2019. Art by Harley Manifold, original in colour)
Black Promise .
We shall bake a black promise.
One that rises to fill every soul,
leaving no room for sticks and stones.
We shall sit at a table round and bare,
with no heads, no wooden spoons or cups to fill.
We’ll play games for no prizes,
make rainbows without green and red, black and blue.
We’ll shed tears and fears into a well so full
it forever flowed into holding hands,
as trees grew back tall around us,
and grass reached out lush and long,
holding us so high in endless respite
– there would be no end or beginning.
( Clunk & Jam book.)
‘Clunk & Jam’ has arrived. Three years in the making. Hand typed on an old typewriter. Printed locally with vegetable base ink and stitch bound (in Perth, Western Australia). Kind contribution of cover art by Stormie Mills and other contributed art by Harley Manifold within.
The making of Clunk & Jam (at home above).
The Woodbridge Post Office Lady .
I push it through. A passing without meeting. An intimate exchange. Will she sniff where I’ve been? Add another layer of touch? A crease in the handling? Hold its journey up for how long?
A tantalising story with its imaginary end. Somewhere beyond the slot. And to know would spoil this hush exchange. The chance to build towards another. And another. Until the next.
Or maybe it just fell unnoticed into a bag? My story tells me more.
Footnote: Wrote this piece on holiday in Tasmania because I was posting postcards back home, and the friend I was staying with talked about this “Woodbridge post office lady” he’d come to know through his daily visits to collect and post mail.
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Shedding Skin On Sunset Beach .
A sleepy sun leaves buoys with faces to trace lingering steps on icing sugar sand, chilled by the late afternoon. The chalky white drift of a pelican patch invites the mind to float, as a school tickles the surface and jetty sticks stretch long into the sound. And when thought interrupts to say, “You know it won’t last”, and “Time is never so still”. You take that moment back into a sandy pocket and leave the hurry behind.
(Picture from ‘World of Wonder’ book found on Ruth’s farm. Find in Clunk & Jam book.)