Tag Archives: Jane Frank

9.6.2017

You would forgive me for seeing exquisiteness in the stained glass that morning. When the last chords of Clair de Lune faded and bells tolled deep through the arch I gasped at the muscularity of the cobalt, the ancient maize-gold … Continue reading

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A Room Almost Dark

A room almost dark Windows that have stopped talking Other lives lit up to the river and beyond Our light only the numbers blinking I’ll see this day through with you As I walked here The clouds shone in a … Continue reading

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Mosaic

Trees and streets and rivers run with their names curved in arcs between rosemary and a burgeoning bottle tree grove small hands splayed aqua, rose, lemon, soft apricot like fruit – a chattering tesserae a mosaic of bright eyes only … Continue reading

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A gift after rain at Shorncliffe

cerulean grace dome laced sweetly with jazz played by murmurating birds loose powder clouds and the pier railing a striped ribbon tying sky to sea paper-cutout waves on diagonals rippling simulated to the shore every fifth leaf of the fig … Continue reading

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Interpretation

Lately I imagine bodies in artworks more than real ones – men running with muscled neoclassical legs The Thinker’s bulging shoulder the hard-smooth dullness of marble I’m a Delacroix nude being rescued from a battle scene or lolling by the … Continue reading

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Unremembering

I can’t stand the sight of sausages popping in the pan. It’s a safe bet – my youngest is fussy – but it’s not a meal that goes with wine. I long to break rules that have welded in the fluorescent … Continue reading

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A Time of Flowers

The afternoon shadows are long. I’m pruning dead agapanthus heads from glossy greenness. There’ll be many months before their lilac hearts burst again on stalks of joy. They’ll watch jealously as the moraya hedge flowers each time there’s rain, snows … Continue reading

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