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Long Life Prayer

LONG LIFE PRAYER

Cradled in sound.
Cradled amongst the ins
And outs of breath, of heart.
Cradled, covered, rocked.

This certain skin touched, warm.
Cradled with word,
Cradled with song.
Cradled in longing,
Cradled in dream.

Swathed,
This long voice,
This sunlit unfolding,
This silken morning air,
These slow, precise moments.

Voice is not
The only voice
(Says the world).
Heart has not
The only song
(Says the slow dusk).

Peace is not
Outside
(Says the river,
Says the floating trees,
Says the flight of wings above,
Says the silence of their passing).

The living sleep, the sleeping dream,
The breathing pauses, the song resumes,
We melt and merge, swathed and cradled.
Delicate is the rainbow,
Impossible to catch.
Delicate the dance:
The balance of remaining.

Cherish and sustain
Uphold and move on.
So little, so few,
A heart to hold all,
A mind of whispers.
Gently, gently,
No lamp flickers.
Scent of evening.

—-

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Neural Net

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NEURAL NET

As if holiness
Were a subtraction
They would have us
Feign goodness,
These bullies of belief.

Tracks of sparks in pathways of desire,
This darkened room, these walls and doors,
Appearing, disappearing.

A space to move in, a sudden halt.
Sparks and glimmer in the dark,
Sparks on roads, these gods, these equations.

This electric touch, this love glow
A scatter of sparks.
This blackbird in the morning,
This dull thud of bombs,
A scattering of sparks.

Sound and light
Sprayed along roads
Falling golden.
Configuring this dream.

—-

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continuing the themes on the nature of thought, the real, the truth, the seen, the unseen the creation of matter and the creation of meaning,

Serry (orality)

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SERRY

What is said,
This moment,
This word,
Is real, torn, squeezed,
Extruded
From heart and breath
And world.

This sly scribble,
A snake that curves
And curls tight,
Brain deep.
My thoughts
In your voice,
A mask,
A masking.
Laid down,
A trap, cunning gin
Tongue-tying,
Strident
(Though even whispered).
Time bomb.

We sing in chords,
In chorus.
Drum on flesh and earth
Together,
Drum with feet,
Drum with tongues.
Together ululate,
A stampede, a flock.
Syncopate pulse,
We merge.

Never this
String of thought,
Tugged out to tie senses,
Alone, locked on paths
With no cessation.
A spell, an enchanting,
Mazed: ink and electron
Dancing grim tango.

Entangled, entangled
In mind or mouth,
Striving to know escape
Or to know belonging.

The mute language of skies,
The sing of cloud dissolving.

Being nothing
But ourselves
We dive down
And drown.

What i mean is
What eye can mean
What mean is even tranquil
What line dances
What dance thrills out
Worlds words
See spy the key
Notation
Reminders
Remain
Only.

A cool breeze lifts the poplars
A cool breeze learns sound,
Then passes back to silence.

—–

Sparked by a pile of books, a passage of time.
The title, originally ‘Orality’ ( a new word to me, precise and useful but somehow ugly) I changed to ‘Serry’, a very nice concise, old word that sums up both restriction and unity….( I randomly found it whilst checking the spelling of ‘cessation’!).

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Figuratively

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FIGURATIVELY

Such as it is,

(All immanent),

It fades, fades, flies, falls.

Our art,

The only way

To catch the present moment,

Reflected, mirrored

On this moving, rippled

Lake of memory.

—-

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Harvest Festival

HARVEST FESTIVAL

Cloud rests, winged.
Feathered, these upland mists.
Green grey the day along
Swathed and shrouded hills.

The still, one prayer, arcs
The scooped valleys.
(Pitted the stones,
Time-pocked).

A bell, a peal:
A gathered fruitfulness,
A hymnal of sunlit days.
In sainted, beached ship,
Sails of praise turn tides.

We become indwelling,
Folded,
The promise of rain,
The blackbird’s quiver-
Heart arrowed, liquid.

——

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Still Voided Cities

STILL VOIDED CITIES

How it is and how it seems:
The stuttered view,
Rain slanting in on warm southerlies
Grey, in tides, in waves,
A breath moist muttering
This first week of October,
(Shadows between green leaves
Turning purple,
Purple the ash keys, heavy
Beween wan, limp fingers
Counting the paling
Shortening days).
The engineer’s equations,
Crisp and sure:
The city walls
Disregarding season’s
Rise and fall.
Crystalline, always empty,
No shelter
( but a shell of concept),
Eternally still,
Void of heart
Where life slumps in
Sad blood rides,
Tides of melting
Soft flesh
Too swift to notice
This stark contrast-
Change and no change,
( the walls slow stain
With debris
Of swollen dreams
Fostered and forsworn
In these winded voids
And passageways),
These cities
Always silent, sublime,
Lit and shadowed
On a whim.
No place
For the slow dry arc,
The turning leaf
Falling in late sunlight
Lost trampled on asphalt
(The smell of new rain).

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World Tree

WORLD TREE
( a local cosmography)

The tree of blood
The tree of impulses,
And finer still,
The tree of silver rivers,
The tree of memory and
The tree of possibilities.

Branching sight,
Branching sound,
The shape of light
Hitting solid edge,

The edge turned hollow
The hollow turned vessel,
The vessel filling with light.

Radiant fingers
Exploring being and not.
Holding and flowing
Magnanimous, curious,
Reacting. A central
Creating vision,
Hollow seed
Spinning
Golden outwards.

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WHAT THE GODS SAY

1.

These,
the ghosts
adhering to inner walls,
stains and smudge,
scribbles in haste
‘remember me’.
Words that leapfrog meaning, bray and boast their sounds, exultant cascades untranslatable, insubstantial, picked out, chosen, chaos bouquet, emphatically vague. They are summoned and summon yet more. A duty, to weigh the grains and count.
Enumerate.
Embody.
To be,
(that’s what the scholar said),
to be, only the purpose, the desperate clutch of the sliding mind, the seed to puncture shell, to push aside soil, to explode in cellular satisfaction,
only for a moment,
only a fragment spinning from sight,
(a haze of insect wing, moth dust, singeing carapace),
quick fizz of smoke
before a new
silent morning.

___

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2.

The gods are talking and
who, now, will listen?
( except the still heads, still ears of cats, furled limbs, breathing soft).
The songs drunken with time, beyond reasonable explanations, beyond vocabulary, even.
A world rhythm,
geologic heart,
solar wind tatters,
a raiment of light.
Bruised and blue, bullied, subdued with belief, the weight of knowing, the want of neat ends. The jazz ravings disdained, we stutter, scatter, mutter into neat insanities, inexcusable attrocities, the most urbane deniabilities: accepted gospels, ( polite murmur, a scatter of slight applause).
Damned, chained,
not fit for consumption,
bagged, tagged, dumped.
Peeled back, flayed, hearts melted, livers liquified, bones removed, it rattles yet: the endless excuses, one more throw, red or black, no more bets.
Certainly, a certain outcome.
These flickering words dissappear.
Peals of laughter.
Exit stage.
Silence.

—-

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3.

The giants, ensorcelled, (confined to the bitter end, the edge, paled and wan)
Believe they begin to believe they doubt their own existences. Instead, we have designed
Towering tree houses, worlds on a toothpick, serpents performing charity,
Clever monsters spruced up, natty dressed, elocuted, certificated
Charm themselves into, insinuate, invade and invalidate the belated wakers.
They are now the boys in charge, elegantly rewriting memory,
Railroading necessities. The taste for giants long past, evaporated ice.

——

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4.
Shall I list the devatas, the demons and angels, ( who bear the identical of names, who bear the burdens of our blame). Pinned out, wings splayed, members politely erased, genders hushed up. Who strode worlds: now only the names of new cars, lines of fashion, confections. Reincarnate as pet dogs and cats, the endless dreaming of glories, biding time.

—-

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the images are taken from a longer sequence of drawings, yet to be titled and still ongoing, an animation of stillness, a shout of silence

Moon Rendered Saviour

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MOON RENDERED SAVIOUR

It drifts, it slips, slivers, divides, diminishes
Slides, slides
Though the sky moves not,
Though the silence remains.

Heart’s division
An ache, a season,
A mist, a smoke of lust
Unslaked, bitter as ivy.

No reason, no recall.
A habitual residue
A dust of sorrow
A settlement too familiar,
Mica, clay, chalk, bone.

Shadow moons, blue lifted light,
Relapse, rapsody, requiem.
A heavy ransom for gold,
A skirl, spiraling chill.

But this song, abstracted,
Extended, drawn out, attenuated
A nerve or a vein tampered,
No remedy but to feel more
Not less, not, never, turning away.

Control, unfurl, unfold,
Lips and fingers unpetalled.
One moment silent
Naked eye, naked ear.
Stand upright, balanced,
Worthy on the world.
______

Rather abstracted and sketched. An impressionist or expressionist, or maybe symbolist….a translation from the movement of inner zephyrs…..a little of something, though I know not what….

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simple is always best. This is a simple and elegant suggestion to align with strong forces of positivity and protection. Wherever you are.