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‘Without recourse to lying, distortion or cheating…. Technique!’   

Prefab Sprout


If every step, leap, joke, stretch and turn

Became talk’s straight opposite, a way

Of being and doing, a chance to learn

What our bodies could shut up and say,


How fair it could be, this love-studded world -

How much more just and beautiful,

If every day new expressions unfurled

And we were all present in the possible.


When you practice the art of listening         

You never walk into the same room twice.

You find what the yet to be formed can bring.

You understand no single language can suffice.


Two decades of readiness, of choices made -

Dots joined without anomaly.

Yet there are still fresh games to be played:

Connections, laughter, lives, family.


To dream of tin means to open your mind,

Your chest, your arms, your lungs, your heart,

And to stay open - ready to find

What only imagination can ever start.


It is a gift you learn over time by giving,

The ancient grace and art of how to fall,

To hold your weight new and now and living

Until time slips loose the body’s call:


Instincts turn to muscled curiosity,

Fluent patterns deliberate on balance,

A tight-held breath of what could be

Were we fully ourselves and with others could dance.


We can all flow further, higher, and then…

It is what it is. We are where we are.

Gravity loses. We begin again.

Technique takes the weight, burns it to a star.


Mark Robinson, January 2019

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Dear Tin,

I thought you might not recognize me without my red nose or my squeak, so I brought them along…. (shows nose, squeaks squeaker) …for courage.

My name is Laura. I’m a Clown Doctor.

I’m here to fill you in, Dear Tin, on what you’ve meant, what you mean, on this special day. And not just to me. Like a rolling whatnot you’ve gathered many howd’youdo’s, and in this letter my words are said on behalf of a few.

Think of it like a love letter. A postcard winging its way through the years from now to then.

So, if you’re sitting comfortably… ?