simonhlilly

DHRUPAD 10 (small birds)

Small birds sweep low low in the winding lanes, pressed down by a weight of sunlight. They we they swim, we swim slow slow through slow air. A blazing sky cloudless rings slow and dark the slow small waters silent almost almost silent slipping by. They arc and dip and sway the golden grasses’ heavy heads golden purple green grey and the red tipped meadow where the hares hide on the high corner beyond the wood on the high winding road in bitter bright light.
The world this world small and gentle circling around the sun. We move in circles circles now now beneath a cool , too cool and marbled sky. Dry lands scarred and parched fold and spread on golden waves. New fledged the swallows dip and chatter. Slim the chances of rain, locked in slow circles.
Becoming becoming pentatonic I hum in Shivrajani midnight midnight still a horizon’s glow a radiant edge a beauty and sadness the melancholy remembering of small options circling new patterns, satisfied with not quite enough. In the dusted dry the heat dry the rainless cloudless dry.
Gathered up gathered up i am gathered up broadcast arced out released and scattered a mudra a dance seeded . Bundled huddled in sound a conglomerate a husk a bowl a cauldron rimmed spattered jewelled, spitting pearl words.
The rivers the rivers
the rivers we drink from
are the dreams of the dreaming dead.
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