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  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Sunday, 09 July 2017

          I went through hoops for you We went through hoops together You went through hoops for me oblivious of the tether You wore your silver chain that sang of slavish irons I wore my golden crucifix the mark of freedom’s scions You primped an
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Sunday, 04 June 2017

        Poem on the first Feast of Pentecost They don't know what comes next. They are trembling, assembled together for comfort, confused, bereft, vulnerable, exposed to hostile forces, on the edge of unbeing. They've nothing to bless the
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Wednesday, 24 May 2017

                                      Pippa Passes - John Butler Yeats     ...a quaint notion, minted in the early years of the 19th centur
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Friday, 07 April 2017

        Back in 2015, Blackwell's Bookshops and the Bodleian Library jointly offered an Academic Writing Prize of £2,500 for the best student essay entitled What is Genius? It was timed to celebrate the opening of the new Weston Library whe
  • Posted in Blogs ·
    Tuesday, 14 March 2017

        Article first published elsewhere in 2009 and re-issued in response to Katherine Gregor's post   About forty years ago, there was a daffy Beatrix Potter image in circulation based on the conjoined masculine and feminine symbols

Latest Comments

Ken Hartke In Praise of Old Hotels – Taos and Leadville
21 July 2017
The road is always calling... I'm debating with myself about driving up into Wyoming for the solar e...
Stephen Evans In Praise of Old Hotels – Taos and Leadville
20 July 2017
I so enjoy these - they make me want to hit the road!
Ken Hartke In Praise of Old Hotels – Taos and Leadville
20 July 2017
I'm glad you liked it. I enjoy visiting these authentic old places and appreciate the effort to kee...
Katherine Gregor In Praise of Old Hotels – Taos and Leadville
20 July 2017
I so enjoy your descriptions of various hotels! Each has its distinctive personality. I have fond m...
Stephen Evans The Poem I would have Writ
14 July 2017
Maybe it is an excuse though I tend to read is more as frustration with the choice between being in...

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I am about sixteen.  I wake up in the middle of night.  The sound of distant crunching, faint music and the light spilling into the corridor lure me l...
It has been a while since I shared an old hotel dispatch from the road.   Here in the high desert of New Mexico, June is our hottest month and the onl...
"What is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and count it a bondage to fix a ...
"My life has been the poem I would have writ,  But I could not both live and utter it." Henry David Thoreau Born July 12, 1817 ...
I am priveleged to occasionally witness these little domestic dramas as they play out in my backyard. This is my local Scaled Quail family.  Body lang...