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Agree with Sheila, and no doubt other notes yet unread, this is really good - a wonderful, bouncy tangibility combined with lines that propulse along on their own engines (it seems). No doubt few words that will hone out or alter with more attention. But this ship is well built and thank you! Stephen Vincent --- On Wed, 11/16/11, Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]> wrote: From: Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]> Subject: Re: St Ives Harbour from Barnoon To: [log in to unmask] Date: Wednesday, November 16, 2011, 10:40 AM This is sterling, Lawrence. Extremely compelling on multiple levels, not the least of which is the way that you draw forth one sense by way of another. Visual and tactile join beautifully, for example. I feel the movement take pinpoint and waved effort. Very fine, indeed. Sheila On Wed, Nov 16, 2011 at 6:35 AM, Lawrence Upton <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > White islands glide over battered granite hills; > and, near sky, top floors, empty, unfinished, > without balustrades, architecturally complex. > Show-through and mirrorings of light splashed > on to the soft blue of the atmosphere, > setting off dark blues of harbour and bay. > > Water’s high. It’s after five, boats returning, > all predominantly white; and white seagulls, > apparently wandering, butterflies. > Black back > on the roof of Salubrious House… the pine glossy > in our garden. > Two herring gulls floating > on the water of the bay. Three gulls now. > A single boat, two people in it, south-east > of Smeaton’s lighthouse, going north, only > now becoming visible, but fully seen > in the room’s mirror. A single boat goes south, > perhaps to round the pier into harbour, > in both window and glass; in the mirror; > and my memory. > More gulls butterflying. > Wind makes > the palm shudder. Boats drift at their tethers. > Tourists walk past in the picture’s lower half – > I know they’re there -- looking with envious anger > at the houses. A half a million pounds’. > More than the loss of all one’s limbs and eyes. > More than a death. > A boat is gleaned into > the mirror’s picture, oared, northerly towards > a marker buoy; a small boat, but this one’s > under power, overhauls it -- it seems > some pleasantries exchange – and then departs > into the bay’s core and the further ocean, > though, at that size, it’ll stay close by land. > A larger boat, masted, wooden cabin, > comes in from the direction of Godrevy. > A tiny outboard seems to pull aside; > and the fat boat is only in the mirror, > a speedboat following it, but also only > in the mirror. > As water enters the first > of Smeaton’s arches, almost filled by > sea-pushed sand, many tourist boats come out, > kayaks and pedalos and larger craft, > in an unheard buzz, the stinging insects > of evening, a lugger, out from the harbour > and round the pier then north, smoothly, rapidly, > its hue the wide wings, with satiate assurance, > of a gull waddling dully on a house roof. > > > > > ----- > UNFRAMED GRAPHICS by Lawrence Upton > 42 pages; A5 paperback; colour cover > Writers Forum 978 1 84254 277 4 > wfuk.org.uk/blog > ---- >