Dave Green
@artist-in-a-shed.bsky.social
š¤ 178
š„ 85
š 561
Tragic messy art. Secret poet. Bus and train flaneur. Weighty tome buff. Quite gorm.
reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
about 21 hours ago
Early stroll. Birdsong greets my shadow. Deep tyre tracks in mud. The woman in the hi-vis jacket no longer walks up the hill. A dropped coat hangerās metal question mark. The sky is hosting the reverse fixture of last nightās Darkness V Light match.
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Two trees. Collage on card.
about 22 hours ago
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Deadwood Logging takes it out of me, The back, its twinges Drag me down. Thereās spruce and oak, A sycamore, maybe cherry, Holly crown. Arwen 2021 Hit coast and land And went to town, Now Iām stacking Severed boughs and searching For the woody noun. Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
about 22 hours ago
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reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
2 days ago
Early stroll. I leave the house a minute later than I usually do. I see someone in the distance; he sees me in the distance. Trees like an audience wanting an encore. Birds scatter song-pepper on Wednesdayās plate. Morningās slow unfolding.
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A confluence of errors. Large oil on paper.
2 days ago
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Holiday Me and you: We built the railway To Mombasa. That was for ivory And carcasses, ordinary Items of natural trade. Now you ride the line To one of The Guardianās Top ten beaches Where craniums are ground To beautiful white sand. Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
2 days ago
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6
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Red berries ablaze on a winter walk. Collage on card.
3 days ago
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Spoiled Victorian vista There you are Standing on a parapet The Tweed a salmony sweep Of semi-salty shimmer The slow bell of crawling tides Brine stains on smeared panes Like the sweetest tears But still a coy aristocrat Blocking the view on her plinth Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
3 days ago
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3
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Afternoon stroll. Passing fads.
3 days ago
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7
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Morning stroll. Walks and bridges. Both dividing and joining people, segregating and including.
4 days ago
1
4
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Gullies. Collage on paper.
4 days ago
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90
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Foācāsle On a bend of The Tweed I walked a plank at low tide, Made for the slumped side Of a driftwood galleon. Itās a clamber & fumble On choppy seas, even the swell Of The Doldrums is nauseous. Up the crenelated prow I scanned for land Battened hatches Caught scurvy. M
@imcmillan.bsky.social
4 days ago
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reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
4 days ago
Early stroll. A pair of dropped socks, halted mid stride. A hopping blackbird defines the path. Someone at the bus stop stares at the sky, trying to magic the bus up. Today: yesterdayās echo. An unlit car passes like a car in dark glasses.
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Afternoon swim. Itās man against the fierce elements. Itās a world of peril. Alligators abound. I am Weismuller. Iāll stop there.
loading . . .
4 days ago
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Late morning stroll. East is east.
5 days ago
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5
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Found this on the beach. Also, a small rubber ball.
loading . . .
5 days ago
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Morning stroll. A wall does not make a town, though the town builds its walls.
5 days ago
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reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
5 days ago
Early stroll. The moon over the cemetery. Air is everywhere all at once. A dropped glove pointing towards Monday. That puddle holds a streetlightās light. But what do those shards of glass and that streetlight mean?
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Pole before dunes or hills. Collage on paper.
5 days ago
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20
3
walk Yours a faint voice whipped Away by an easterly, calling The dog. We slipped on grass, Stepped up to the roar Of far tides. At the barracks Searchlights poked at low cloud, Picked out sheets of swirling mist. You wanted to head home, so All I have here is the gist. M
@imcmillan.bsky.social
5 days ago
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10
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Hereās a thing you may not have seen before.
loading . . .
6 days ago
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Weeds, Berwick fortifications. Oil on card.
6 days ago
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Book In this book Live homunculi Their skeletons flapping To whoops of joy I wrote them for fun With their leather chaps And a barrel gun For paper-caps Pretending to shoot Not playing dead Theyāll turn on me While Iām abed Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
6 days ago
0
3
2
Very much the last visit to a deceased swan, Berwick Beach, large collage on paper.
7 days ago
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Spasm Light creeps around Linton Hill Where the back road climbs And enigmatic stars incline In the field marram and scrub Interfere with the breeze And play havoc with my knees Iām thinking, thatās all, Of the dark and fear Of depression for another year Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
7 days ago
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The last of the swan. Collage on paper.
8 days ago
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8
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Walls All places need an edge Where ridings meet Invaders pause Gatekeepers slam their doors Stone pediments Define specific laws Make whiskey barrels disappear You might have a cause But Iām your master From up here Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
8 days ago
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Wading Flamingo is coming on.
loading . . .
8 days ago
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reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
10 days ago
I wandered lonely into Stroud After walking Vales and Hills For days. The streets felt loud And bright as garage daffodils.
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Swan, still dead. Collage on paper.
9 days ago
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14
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Lighthouse Task: look, blink, look Cyclops scan Neutral, cold, aloof Donāt come near The swell digs deep inside us Speaks of fear Death is one type of truth Walk the waves To the roundel Salt lashings Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
9 days ago
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7
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Itās hard to spot, but a careful observer may be able to identify the moment my crevices and pockets filled with seawater and sand. The dog, of course, stayed dry.
loading . . .
10 days ago
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Depiction of a famous ballet on a Berwick beach. Oil sketch.
10 days ago
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Contusion All my days Bleeding under the skin - A blunt tool - picture A bastard file, adze, bradawl. The old bruise easy, fall bad, Blood sluggish like lava. O yes I was hit, but you Know how it is. My worthless Words - plausible deniability Of a long-sleeved cardigan. M
@imcmillan.bsky.social
10 days ago
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Mizzle is my cloak Sand my windcast bed Iāll draw until I croak And join the kelpy dead (Although the wind blew it away and I gave up).
11 days ago
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reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
12 days ago
He climbed lifeās ladder To the topmost rung Where the view was shadow And a song was sung. The gist of which I have to mention: āThereās only the ladder, There no extension.ā
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Dead swan, Berwick beach. Oil on paper.
11 days ago
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7
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Foreboding Iām going out foreboding Skies with heft of lead Itās all about anticipation Building shacks of dread Doors of an impending doom Windows made to scare When itās finished Iāll move in And lay enigmas bare Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
11 days ago
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Unadulterated scampering.
loading . . .
11 days ago
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5
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The unexpected gift.
11 days ago
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Morning swim. I counted me in. And I counted me out.
loading . . .
12 days ago
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Mr Ralph Green, the only man to be buried and cremated in one ceremony.
loading . . .
12 days ago
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Dead swan, Berwick beach. Oil on paper.
12 days ago
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5
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Gone Obsequious was the funeral director With the interference Of practiced sympathy. An unattended cremation Is sad, but this family is one Of Lincolnshireās naughtiest. Weāll dig our own hole, Thank you, and bury the dead To a Dusty song, The imprecations of silence. M
@imcmillan.bsky.social
12 days ago
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3
1
reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
13 days ago
Early stroll. Across the valley, scattered lights. The confident bulk of a parked van. A slice of bread near the hairdresserās. The low hum from that metal box on the street corner. A stick like a mutating stick insect.
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Berwick lighthouse. Collage.
13 days ago
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14
1
Ash A priority seat He would have liked that The leg room perhaps Durham in drizzle Snug in his box His heft for one so frail Like he has gravity Or presence My shoulders ache A long walk to the station But a small service Berwick: To the beach Ashes to sand Sand to sea M
@imcmillan.bsky.social
13 days ago
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10
1
reposted by
Dave Green
Ian McMillan
14 days ago
Early stroll. I donāt have to think about tying my bootlaces. Underground, fossils are sleeping. Rainās note to self: wet everything, now. Puddle archipelagos. An old Christmas tree in a garden.
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Berwick lighthouse. Collage.
14 days ago
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15
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Doggy The young one rolled and stank of badger Rooting out the corpses there The old one ate some pheasant guts Was reprimanded - didnāt care Woolly as the middle one is Scamper-running everywhere She is mine so I am biased Gold of coat and face so fair Morn
@imcmillan.bsky.social
14 days ago
1
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