Thirty

What can be explained is not poetry. YEATS


Twentyeight

The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery FRANCIS BACON


Nineteen

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety…


Eighteen

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we…


Seven

   


One

I have decided that instead of posting my photos to various social media…