The Pope to the Sculptor, “Paint!”Michelangelo, “No thanks.”Replied the Pope, “That wasn’t a request.Now I trust you to do your very best.” Back and forthand round and rounduntil the ceiling was completed. Reluctant artistmade a workthat can never be repeated. This poem was inspired by a recent outing to see the Sistine Chapel exhibit inContinue reading “Sistine”


Shore birds with thearms and legs of industryrushing gush for tidal plunderhalf blinded drownedby beating spraysteam and groanon the horizon with theheave ho of group effortalways the sea willreturn to wash overwhat remains This is the final ekphrastic poem from the exhibition of Turner paintings at the Kimbell Art Museum earlier this year. HERE youContinue reading “Wreckers”

The Ariel

Lashing out, fair rationsthe slap and stingof salt waves mixedwith snowice and fire, a cold burnswirl and tumult ofupturned cargo and soulsnearly founderingwith progress breathlessfor the suffrage of a new life This is the second of three ekphrastic poems I wrote at the Kimbell Art Museum during their exhibition of Turner paintings earlier this year.Continue reading “The Ariel”


The field of death illuminatedLight suspended, in suspensionpigment in medium,applied, brushed and varnishedbut not glossed – so much lossat what costBy their own lightthose who could not fightsearch for signs of life Wandering in suspensionthe crowds pass inmuted tones, hushed and dimmaking their own inspectionframe by framemostly weighed by ageand time, and glossedby the wonderContinue reading “Waterloo”