Thursday 27 September 2018

Real Days and a duiker

Been suffering crashings of confidence when I came upon this poem of Norman's from three years ago and was visited by a duiker. The saving graces of poetry, of nature - realities for me to live by.

A Table Love poem from years back - our "actual breath" in so many ways. 

He or she stared at me a good while on the other side of my window. Only yesterday I'd instructed the gardener NOT to repair the hole in the fence, I suspected the duiker was using it as a thoroughfare; she'd passed my studio while I was working there earlier in the week.




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