Four knots

"I can look at a knot in a piece of wood till I am frightened at it." William Blake

Old cat sleeps stretched, soft and spare as though snared I pause to watch the rise and fall of her white belly, for the long minute of comfort that it gives

The park rail that makes half a heart at saving tykes, whirling high on scant freedom from white van wheels A blue tube bashed into a valentine for the delta

64 Ford Mustang, death black, crow eye black, waxed deep with the black love of a careful owner Drive-in seats smooth with matinee action beckon

The guitar curve of her hip, white and smooth, perfect above bows and blooms, my hand always finds before sleep Eternal and new in each slight shift, a classical movement

Writing by BARRY FENTIMAN HALL

Artwork by LOUISE NEWELL (top)

Artwork by PHIL BARKER (bottom)