“So vast is art, so narrow human wit” Pope
On a grey winter’s day, this cold’s no joke!
I’m on my way into the Smoke
where clouds won’t break, the sun won’t show her face.
No one speaks, there’s no embrace.
So, what is this grieving for a body’s loss?
In the end, I’ll get my sweet release from pitch and toss
but now it’s time to sow some seeds –little deeds.
2D or not 2D
I dream of old an old man in a boater
sailing East to West across a page
and, when I turn the paper, well, he floats there,
a silhouette, a china man, serene.
I dream a rocket takes off into space-time,
climbs across the page from South to North;
black, these silhouettes, like paper puppets
long to turn their souls into 3D.
Dot and Dash