find self in the studio, the Birdhut, such a special place, it's hard to describe what it means to me, in my search for words I open Norman MacCaig's  The Many Days, the first part of the first poem in the book rings true:

Ineducable me
I don't learn much, I'm a man
of no improvements. My nose still snuffs the air
in an amateurish way. My profoundest ideas
were once the toys on the floor, I love them, I've licked
most of the paint off. A whisky glass
is a rattle I don't shake. When I love
a person, a place, an object, I don't see
what there is to argue about.*

* my italics
...and so I don't, argue that is...I just Fall into it All

 and all the while listening to Joni


Mo Crow said…
beautiful words and images
Nancy said…
Beautiful. That second image caught me by surprise and the cloth...a face with a long row of teeth looks out at me. Your spaces holds you well.
Suzanna said…
Hi Saskia, those words in italics are just right, just right. I'm trying to figure out how to email you! Am on the train without all my electronics...
I think I'd like it there....
Ms. said…
hey beautiful wise one...right you are to just fall and follow...such delightful wanderings....and Joni! She's out of the hospital and slated to make a full recovery they say. It's her birthday this month...may she have many more.
Saskia said…
thanks to all for your kind words; it´s a shame you can´t drop in for a visit



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