in the heart of my beloved flows a river. steadily steadily i row this infinite flow. in the heart of my beloved grows a tree gently gently i rest.
if the world is created by our breath by the words we speak, then it was the moon that made me this morning first light waning soft amongst the trees speaking me into the world. if the world is made by our breath and the spaces of silence between, then it must the sun that…
1.guardians of gateways and sleeping beauties sacred to the goddess and hungry goats. 2.in spring we dry the petals gather bowlfuls spread a purple sea on cloths in the sun – october smells like roses. 3.there was a rose king of durbanville he lived down the road. i never got to see his garden or…
it never mattered what it said in those books. it never mattered that we moved on, that we tore out those pages, blacked the ink, burned them, reprinted cleansed on new paper from new trees the same old stories new told. what mattered is what we could not unhear. it was in songs that…
before the sun lights the last leaf, before autumn blue fades to a night thick with stars, before the dove has called evening clear from the telephone wire, before the geranium has closed petal by purple fold petal to the night, i will drink deeply of here hold it a moment cool water to my…
deep in the valley i hear my daughters’ laughter clear as light amongst the shadows of trees. here, sun warm and drunk on butterfly beauty i catch the sigh that has held me breathless and alone for days and gift it to the waiting wind.
across distance a thousand kilometers maybe more between us across the vast plains of night crossing endless roads vein blue by starlight i feel it. passing termite mounds and small towns that buzz their own constellations along the coast painted with night breakers crashing the shore and the silence of land between lights i feel…
where did hope live all these years, quiet as moth wings needing nothing more than the existence of your flame. it is a quickening pulse that unfolds soft wings readies them for flight calls me onwards through the night.
life does not live here it is only measured with hands that mark the seconds in silence machines that weigh the beating heart. life cannot live here. life lives deep in veins pounding red with tides and memory rank with sacred purpose. life lives on egret wings lifting light to the sky in the darkening…
so i stood this morning feet wet with dew and watched that turmeric moon roll the forest horizon dip below the trees, and there by light flimsy as my cotton shawl i pledged allegiance to love – to this unraveling path of beauty and this glorious revolution.