Author: sonja benskin mesher

there is a need to pace about, wave the paper, move the arms. need to pause and counter act. if this reading thing will work. maybe moving eliminates the standing still, precisely that leads to a self concious pose. the need to read is ready. rehearsals held each day focus on the oak tree. alongside…

there is plenty of time to walk from town, to give an opinion whenever requested. there is time to talk, and receive gifts. make time to buy some ready. it has been said before that these are falling days. look at the wild seeds and know that as splendid as you are, that you are…

.is often the way, that we drift, is often the way, that we drift, part company . return again to our root. not always where we think it is, want it to be. yet it is home. sbm. shot_1345536945316 part company . return again to our root. not always where we think it is, want…

numbers.   friday can be thirteen, or something else entirely.   is it memory, history, some                  thing.   he titled it profanity, the subconcious.   so we write,      critique, move dots and numbers.   deal with the outcrops, note the                 faith.   friday can be thirteen, or something else     entirely.   sbm.  

seems i have reinvented everything quieter than before.   wet autumn days or is it winter, the change comes gradually.   i dreamed a cloud of falling leaves, awake to find it is so.   it is so very quiet here today. sbm.

this critic is awkward, sees the good, feels the grace. how to say it, that the mind wanders, that filth detracts from the everyday. that stitching can be rhythmic, and never mind the capitals. clever words confound, googling interupts the flow whilst dots are alaways useful. i have never done this before. sbm.

bought for my house, have reconsidered, it will be for you. a gift, alongside other gifts.                              look after it. found in a fishing shop.  gentle hue,                  alongside floats, and fish lures, now that is a wonderful word. over the road, the water man said all looked                 well, so we glanced out at the muddy building…

it has been a while since we spoke. even now, you will not receive this letter, along with others not sent. some went away to exhibition, while others remain in my head. it is the rule, no contact. today is cooler, we change the clocks soon. i suppose you are nearly retired, yet i have…

slightly interesting. all plans cease, while other symptoms come on board. yet think hard, while all is safe and cosy here, others sleep in mud. sbm.

songs come via friends, the books we read, the place we breathe, songs of the fading,of life ** the words hit our hearts, and sink in to stay, to pledge another stage set, small life ** driving the land, the songs, carry us along, to our place, the constant places, we think don’t change, **…

he is a man, who helped another man, bravely. small plastic, hiding his love, only 20p. bought him, pointed out his bravery to others, the beauty of a man helping. another man. i have not yet taken his photograph. sbm.

i guess yours sleep in bed, clean and cosy, safe, loved and cherished. others love and cherish , yet their families sleep in mud, on streets, wherever they can find. they have left the place where bombs drop on children. yes. a person simply decides to drop barrel bombs on children. on everything. now be…