Art Of The Week: David Sandford’s Waves

The Arts Mechanical

Ran into this post on some incredible photography.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/craigsilverman/lake-erie-beauty?utm_term=.amrJ4m7VOk#.rjgedjpzml

Here’s another post.

http://www.boredpanda.com/the-freak-liquid-mountains-of-lake-erie/

From his site.

The Great Lakes

https://www.davesandfordphotos.com/

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Ultimatum from the Muse

Myths of the Mirror

I’ve returned from my visit to my parents to find my muse practicing with her staff in the driveway. I see that she’s swapped her doeskin for some sci-fi gear that only a muse can pull off … barely. She gives me the weasel eye and impales a fence post with a shot of blue light at forty yards. Show off.

There’s a difference between writing and editing. Creative writing strikes me as right brain, the realm of poetry, music, art, and imagination. It’s intuitive and fluid. The other side, the left brain editor in chief, is practical and logical. It’s the domain of concrete language, organization, detail, and processes.

For the past eight months, I’ve been the nerd with the black-framed glasses, chewing on a pencil as I hunch over my books, one by one crossing off adverbs, fixing commas, and deleting dialog tags. My muse gave up on me in…

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My Diary: I Spin On My Axis As The Earth Stands Still

Gerald's Rather Strange Diary

June left the multistorey frying pan before the fried eggs blinked.‭ ‬Just before this I had a put a small part of the cosmos in a porridge bowl and poured on the milk as if it had real spiritual significance.‭ ‬As the door changed into a diaphanous being who had more than one memory in its head‭ (‬I had already checked and none of them were mine‭) ‬I spoke to the little man hiding in the cupboard under the sink and then tied up my shoelaces with a pair of trainers June had bought for me in a shop selling lawn mowers.‭ ‬As June drew near perfect circles in the urbanised Giotto landscape I locked myself away in the gaol below the toupee roof and pretended to throw away the key.‭ ‬As I did this I had to shut my eyes as I knew the real key had been thrown…

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I want to See

I stare hard

My eyebrows furrowing

My eyes narrowing

I just want to see

But all I manage is a glipse

Prancing around the vacuum that is its surrounding

Teasing me

I just want to see!

Like a target with fog

Clouding my vision

I squint and stare

But bullseye can’t be seen

I just want to see

And know where i’m going

What is my purpose

What is my dream

Oh please oh please let me see

But the fog is heavy and dense

I aim frantically at the target

No path no vision

Just hope

Hope for better

I am left fumbling and doubting

In the dark

Like an arrow with no point

But  I guess that is the 20s

Lost and confused

But with hope

Lots of hope

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Wish