Woody Morris

William Jack Harper

My hand

Palm down

Travels

The breadth

Of your stomach

Held aloft

By the soft fuzz

Of hair

Raised by static

Looking

For an anchor

On which

I can stay

Finding none

We pull to each other

Too close

Too hard

Attempting union

Some other way

And as your hand

Misses mine

Your shock

Of auburn hair

Flashes once

Caught on wind

We grasp

Brace ourselves

And fall into it

Ralph Ward

Jay Delves

Tenaya Steed

Meera Shakti Osborne

Meera Shakti Osborne

Maxwell Peter Hart.

Rosie Hoskin

Rosie Kimber

Joseph Rafferty

Toto Bridgens

Constance Castillo

Ralph Ward

Ralph Ward

Christy

William Jack Harper

He is an old man,

More over,

He is a dying man.

Who once,

Long before

I am conceived

Straddled mountains,

Won over women,

And left his family for them.

Now he is straddled

Swallowed up

By the tiny expanse,

Of his hospital bed.

His breath drawn

Held tight like canvas

Under the arched cathedral

Of his ribs.

Trembling with

The pressure of a hundred voices

Trying to make physical

The blank howl

In which age

Has wrapped

His once sharp mind

Finally he is overcome and the eyes

Put fourth and paint huge voyages

Across the void of his cheeks

Until ashamed they hide,

In crumpled folds of skin.

No longer the master

Of his own body and space.

He is asked if he knows who I am

Fragile, tragic and human

He draws into himself and considers

“You are like us"

William Jack Harper

Here I am

Trying to write

A poem

About blossom

And I’ve run out

Of cigarettes

It’s much too late

And all tonight’s smoke

Has faded blue

Around the ceiling

And of course

I can’t think

Of anything

That I can write

That might

Do it justice

And anyway

It would probably

Just end up

Being about you

William Jack Harper

It seemed the whole world lauded us this morning

We were it’s first born

And it was proud

Dumb, coy and awkward we presented ourselves

And for you I felt a genuine affection

Our work is to create a language

That justifies this all

The fresh pigment of spring

And how it poured fourth and sang

Bold and saturated

In greens and blue

From the nocturne

Of countless nights before

Everything was new and this felt like a beginning of things

Joseph Rafferty

Raymond Carver

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

Christy

Possibly use for screen print?

Christy

page from early fragment diary.

Rosie-Mae Hoskin

Shaker Water House 1.

Tea-stained silk organza blouse

Jasmine for Barbara.

sketch book pages