Into the woods, the water swaying grass people sea
Nowhere to be found, I am
Tangled in reeds, cello strings, Times New Roman, apple pie taste
Elementally mixed, constantly absorbing, colliding
Radically intertwined
Spirit, how do we live and move and breathe and be from
End to beginning, sustaining
Now, amongst present and past and looseleaf
Diagrammed we live sandwiched in Spirit and mudpie veins
Ever present, ever tiptoe, ever reaching
Not knowing, open wide (sky and salad and dirt inside)
Circling, orbiting, living amongst, breathing in,
Everything
Friday 28 October 2011
Thursday 27 October 2011
Mark
Everyone is looking for you
Dark spirits and doves speak (messianically)
Desert voices
Abandoned nets
Knees to stone before sunrise
Cures to old aches
Calms to fever's rage in
Temples voices raised
A held hand
Everyone is looking for you
Untouched skin
Are you willing?
Don't tell anyone
Everyone is looking for you
Dark spirits and doves speak (messianically)
Desert voices
Abandoned nets
Knees to stone before sunrise
Cures to old aches
Calms to fever's rage in
Temples voices raised
A held hand
Everyone is looking for you
Untouched skin
Are you willing?
Don't tell anyone
Everyone is looking for you
Tuesday 11 October 2011
Landscapes
Can you see the hidden landscapes,
in the corners, in the fields,
towers of grain and ten-headed thistles
visited by heavy bumblebees?
Stalactite cities suspended in space
The great rivers that run down the sides of
red clay roads in the evening I'll find you
a sunset halo, or perhaps, together on a train bridge
We'll catch a glimpse of a far off home
(castle in clouds)
Tide pool cliffs, each puddle is a regular metropolis
or vast desert.
Each field teems with hoppers, tiny wings,
and six-legged crawlers
Packed in earth, worms live out their
sensuous existence
Each leaf, each tree textured, infinitely shaped,
and veined.
And in every fleck of peeling paint,
contrasting colors make collaged display,
A diving board, a hidden world,
A place for imaginitive dust mites to play.
in the corners, in the fields,
towers of grain and ten-headed thistles
visited by heavy bumblebees?
Stalactite cities suspended in space
The great rivers that run down the sides of
red clay roads in the evening I'll find you
a sunset halo, or perhaps, together on a train bridge
We'll catch a glimpse of a far off home
(castle in clouds)
Tide pool cliffs, each puddle is a regular metropolis
or vast desert.
Each field teems with hoppers, tiny wings,
and six-legged crawlers
Packed in earth, worms live out their
sensuous existence
Each leaf, each tree textured, infinitely shaped,
and veined.
And in every fleck of peeling paint,
contrasting colors make collaged display,
A diving board, a hidden world,
A place for imaginitive dust mites to play.
Monday 10 October 2011
Poet
I am a poet again
I looked into my eyes and saw hope.
There were months of hibernation,
Desperation, yes, but I can weather these storms
with you
Crystal eyes honey on oatmeal,
Waking, stretching,
In rapidly changing contexts it's easy to lose
Narrativity or part of yourself
I took a deep breath, and my first instinct
Was red letters then I let go CO2 and
Poems came out.
I looked into my eyes and saw hope.
There were months of hibernation,
Desperation, yes, but I can weather these storms
with you
Crystal eyes honey on oatmeal,
Waking, stretching,
In rapidly changing contexts it's easy to lose
Narrativity or part of yourself
I took a deep breath, and my first instinct
Was red letters then I let go CO2 and
Poems came out.
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