“take back, like the night,that which is shared,”like the cool become coldunder a scattering of wild stars.like our breath , heldagainst the nowthat explodes on our screensstealing light from our daysand stars from our nightuntil no more –say no moreno morethrow open our windowsour doors – step outsideallow the night coolto pry breathlike a sigh,…
she realised that day, canoe cutting silver through the dark water that slid quiet strokes, that she loved that hill. had perhaps always loved the hill, living mystery with steep up down forest slopes held in the curve soft arm of a river where once she had sat, river rocked singing low, her arms encirlcling…
wednesday morning after night rain,out in the dirt road – spade in handtrying to redirect the run-offto rain channels and contour pondsthat will fill overflow, soak to the rootsbefore, steep hill forest,it will make its way to the small river, deep valley,that rushes and roarspulling dead wood and tangle in its flow,to join the wide…
easter weekend – beforeand after autumn rainwe walked the fern paththe damp underfoot paththe deep tree shadeblue sky raven paththat flows along the riverclimbs slowly until the quiet deepbecomes the flow rush through river grass,marimbas smooth over rocks,dashes pool to pooluntil birdsong becomes the river calling loudlyas it falls white water to dark pools. we…
tell me about your holy cowsyour gigabyte ram ram mantrayour exponents of exponential growth,your markets that rise and fall by the whim of small godstrading the gdp of vast countries in africa and lives lived brutalin deep tunneled earth for something shinywith a touchscreen and planned obsolescence.tell me this is the meaning and purpose of…
morning earlybefore the rain,before the sun –the birds, the birdsare waking the dead,shaping shadows into lightinto light yesterday an addercrossed the roadscales aglow andpungent with life and i know how it iswhen our deities crawlfrom dream to bask a whilein the glory of spring sun – and how we in turn,like the silent scrapeof dust…
and today, and todaycuckooo calls the spring last weektoday, sundayour first life was lost,in our small coastal town,to the ocean’s rise. on my phone,on my screen,on the front page ofthe actual made of paper papera picture of a murky wave –crashing the sea wall – heavingtaller than trees into the air on impact –charging forwarda…
deep shadow purpleand heavy with dewi pick morning violets, small water orbspetal cuppedrefracting silver and spring, held by the sweet scentof every lifetime spentwet-kneed in the morning,picking quiet violetsforest edge it is a lonely soundthe distant hollow thudof the gravediggers spadeforest edgein the morningbut deathhas always beenlonely –unwanted, unsummonedunexpectedeven when it isinevitable yesterday old brannon-ponydied…
1.tuesday morningsunbird sang spring – and westill deep bundledin winter sleep stumbledout the househalf-rememberinghis song. 2.on my desk between potted plantsand two birdhouses storm-downedand in for repair – amidst pencilsand paintbrush and candle and river stones –six ants are carrying off the wingof a larger, now clearly flightless, insect – i sip of my waterreplace…