Oil on Canvas
My fingers touch dry strokes, from a brush, on a canvas from last year. So delicately you worked that piece. The landscape, brilliant greens and soft browns, ochre fused with other blends from a palette. Beautiful depth and life, on taut cotton, on pine. My fingers move gently over trees and hedgerows, and I imagine
Neptune’s Crown
My daughter called it Neptune’s crown, I guess it was. Once a shiny hubcap from a ‘76 Chevy, before it came off and rolled into the river. Now little tiddlers swim through its stalks of aluminium that rise up like masts on a forgotten wreck. It’s from a Chevy, I can tell from the shape of the