Give full attention
to a single word
mundane, obscure, short or long
let it pop up
at random
write in non-stop burst
keep exploring
different aspects
exercise writing muscles
surrender to the flow
give permission to make no sense
be free
no need to judge
whatever comes is what comes


Eight jars on her mantelpiece.


Jar one.


Home-made jam. Label stuck upon it has date written by hand: September, 1963. Damson jam.


Jar two.

Half full or half empty of pink buttons of different sizes, all round or round-ish. There is room in here for more pink buttons. These are not chocolate buttons, but pink shell buttons.  Also, some ceramic, a few wool buttons and a cardboard button coloured-in very carefully with what looks like felt-tip pen. 


Jar three.

Lice and mouse tails fashioned from wire and silk-thread. The lice look like jewels and are much larger than living lice. 


Jar four.

Questions written on scraps of paper. This jar is larger than the others, nearly twice the size, and it is nearly full. Do you have a question that you want to add? Actually, I might write this question I’ve just asked you onto a piece of paper and put it into the question jar. A question about asking questions takes us into meta territory. This could go on forever. Maybe it already has.


Jar five.

This sports a label clearly marked REGRETS. On closr inspection, these take the form of safety pins, sewing pins and needles. Each regret, it seems, has been placed inside this jar when a regret has arisen. Some of the pins are rusty and some are crooked. A few are very sharp indeed. There is room in here for more regrets.


Jar six.

Not something living, no ladybird on a leaf with holes punched in the lid to give it air. No butterfly tableau or larvae. No jewellery. 

Jar six contains dice. Different ages, sizes and colours. Some black dice with white pips, some white dice with black pips, some red with yellow pips, one black and white dice with different coloured pips on each face. Extraordinary. Wooden dice, ebony dice, glass dice, pine, rose wood, tin, clay.


Jar seven.

Filled with number sevens, some embroidered, some carved from the leg of an old wooden school desk, some tin.


Jar eight.

This is empty.

Originally it was filled with fresh honey which was eaten. Then used for making salad dressing which was also eaten, a number of times over. It has been thoroughly cleaned and the smell of vinegar has dissipated.

What would you like to put into jar eight? 







APR 17, 2021


Is your alphabet the same as mine?

Are we on the same page?

You deliver your letters

From the wrong letter box

But that’s ok 

Because when I find them

I’ll put them in order,

From Z to A

And critics will argue over

What was meant

Not what was sent

MAR 5, 2021


Ask and ye shall be forgiven

Ask and ye shall be rewarded

Ask and accept


Ask and know that your request may not be fulfilled

But ask..


In Alaska they asked’er if she’d masquerade

FEB 12, 2021


I miss her and I miss the sound of her miaow especially .

It was our childish code for her suggesting sex.

For years, I’d pissed her off by always asking for it and never giving her “time to feel my bodily rhythm.”

So in the end I consented to await the miaow.

I thought that, when she left me, last week, we might hold each other, cry together, have one last dance or one last dinner date but no, she left without so much as a miaow.

FEB 1, 2021


Dump yer bombs then ask for famine relief

Dump yer lies then ask for belief

Dump yer mental shit in the bin

Dump yer pathetic attempt at sin

Dump yer rubbish on a Friday morn

Dump yer anxiety by dawn…


JAN 22, 2021


Begin again - always a second chance or at least until the afterlife begins again.  

Begin again to speak with more heart. 

Begin again to be wider awake, to see tree branch shapes; the colours of its inhabitant – a little blue tit. 

Begin again, your judging mind but, this time, notice it whilst it’s happening and begin again the chance for self-compassion.


JAN 15, 2021


To Sandy

You left, my friend, when we were in our Saturn Return and you still haven’t! 

I don’t hold it against you.  In fact, I still treasure you.  

From the other side of the world we can now see each other – virtually – any time we want!  I’m always here for you and I sense you feel the same.  

Our births, back in ’57, were only separated by a few hours even though we’re now separated by a few continents.  But Time and Space don’t impinge upon Soul.

DEC 11, 2020



There are many Hammer siblings.  The eldest is Silent Saw, who saw too much.  The middle twins are Pointy Poker and Shitty shovel, the latter being obvious as he’s the designated one to clean the commodes.  Pointy Poker has an accusatory demeanour, the first to attribute blame in any emerging quarrel.  Finally, there’s Woody Work-Bench (born from a different dad hence the double-barrelled name).  Woody has to put up with everything being placed on his shoulders and all the other tooly shenanigans.


Thanks to Danny for contributions