so long so longsince i have been heredipping into this icy lake uncoloured morningslippered and blanket wrappedfor the cold coldthat sits at the base of the spine where the donkey was nail beat years agoon a red dust road in the sunmake-shift harnessed to a scrap cartgoing nowhere same low curve back where the needleswere…
1.it is a long journeyfrom dust to dustbecoming and becominguntil we areno more 2.today i sort the woolrank with goatand dirt of living –hook out the bristle thorn,lucerne stalks and seed debris –air it on the table in the sun.sinking fingers intosun warm fleeceto say the prayers of thanks because how can this not be…