Steve Bucknell's photos

Postcard collage.

Passerby,These are Words Passerby, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of letters eaten by grass. Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names. It flits between two sprays of leaves, Carrying the sound of branches that are real To those that filigree the unseen gold. Then know an even fainter sound, and let it be The endless murmuring of all our shades. Their whisper rises from beneath the stones To fuse into a single heat with that blind Light you are as yet, who can still gaze. Listen simply, if you will. Silence is a threshold Where, unfelt, a twig breaks in your hand As you try to disengage A name upon a stone: And so our absent names untangle your alarms. And for you who move away, pensively, Here becomes there without ceasing to be. Yves Bonnefoy

A WOODLAND FLUTE ………………….BETULA ……………… .PENDULA ……….…..CARPINUS ………………BETULUS ………………..VIBURNUM ………………..OPULUS ……………….POPULUS ………….…TREMULA ……………..…PRUNUS

LITTLE FIELDS LONG HORIZONS LITTLE FIELDS LONG FOR HORIZONS HORIZONS LONG FOR LITTLE FIELDS -Ian Hamilton Finlay. Little Sparta.

From the garden, looking out to Dunsyre and Lanarkshire.

“Marsyas, a celebrated but reckless flautist, challenged the god Apollo to a flute playing contest, which he predictably lost. Apollo tied him to a tree and flayed him alive. The use of French implicates the French revolutionary proponent of the Terror, Saint-Just, who was, like Apollo, renowned for his beauty. The great head emerging from the ground suggests that the rest of a huge statue remains to be excavated.” Little Sparta. A Guide to the Garden by Jessie Sheeler.

Some sky and light oozing and running along the saturated forest floor this morning.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son.

Collage. Tear and share, as they say.

Window on a very steep run of stairs to the parvis, a chamber above the north porch of St.Andrews church, Stoke Dry, Leicestershire. Persistent local legend - unproven we might add - says that the Gunpowder plotters met here to plan their attempt on the life of James I. Well worth a visit, and the tiny local village keeps it open to the public! I’m so grateful that people take the time and trouble to do this.Spiritual rewards must accrue. There are good photos of the many treasures of this remarkable church on the Internet…but this is my own sideways glimpse, while on my knees, in fear of falling, on the stairs. You won’t find this on the Internet anywhere but here!

From the white heat of Lake Ballard to the rocks of Sadell across to Arran… From the quicksands of Crosby to Margate, connecting, connecting… From the Uffizi, pura essenza, to the Angel of the North, and here, a kind of Virgil will guide me down Euston Road to the Crypt of St. Pancras