Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘being’

A RAINBOW WALKS

A rainbow walks the yellow hill.

Small birds know that Spring is coming.

The wide-winged hawks, too, wheel and watch.

The rain has reached us now,

Tapping the roof.

Our skies yawn wide here:

From the Radnor hills right round

Through Crychan forest and the hidden dive

To the Sugarloaf and the low lands beyond.

Epynt is the wall of centuries behind us,

The deep valleys of the Cambrians, an uncertain present.

The old stones have been removed,

Or lost, that pinned us to hope.

The roads run thin and crumble.

If you live forever, all this is of no consequence.

If you live one year, or two,

This doubt and uncertainty is extravagance.

Many hereabouts conjure their own futures

From a past they grasp as if it were theirs.

As well to leave it be, leave it be.

There is no power here but a rainbow

Walking, for a moment, the yellow hill.

And the flow of wind and cloud across the horizon

No one can see beyond.

Read Full Post »

AFAGDDU

Am nyt
Vo nyt vyd;
Nyt vyd am nyt vo
;

Since it may not be
It shall not be;
It shall not be
Since it may not be;

To the light, bright, guileful one
This darkness unfathomable
Is a fear ugly and unbreached.
Refusing its nomenclature
Sullen beyond edges, unruled.
If it has language it is the language of mould
The skittering of small things, of decay.
A mulch, a compost, a howl of vowels
A gutteral bubbling of green mud,
White, stripped bones grinning
Through swags of drooping flesh.
It is the architecture of night,
The logic of humus, its own gravity,
Penetration of life within life,
Life searching out new form,
Stretching for new freedoms,
A rainbow slick, gyrating in fractal.
Subhuman, unruly son of the mother
Held in her arms, limp and ever dying,
Pieta, beneath matter’s crucifixion,
The rot of resurrection, a weaving of thorns,
Refusing the excuses of others, nothing to tell,
Washed in tears, its own aromatic unguent.
A secret not what it seems, that few will approach,
Is the centre of all things.

Vyg kadeir
A’m peir
A’m deduon.

My song
And my cauldron
And my rules.

2018/04/img_3068.jpg

Read Full Post »

2018/01/img_3387.jpg

It is the rocks that make the river sing,
The world that gives us song.
Bones creak, branches heavy with snow,
Breath captured must release.
Spring will come.

Read Full Post »

Looking towards Carn Wen at evening.

To watch the pass
of light and dark
and how they each
shape these hills, this way and that,
is all I wish now to do.
we live, we die
as the distances reveal themselves
then vanish with the pass of a cloud.

if not to fill our time with beauty,
if not to see the world as it becomes us,
then what?
a flicker of pain, a flight upwards of joy
and the rolling of light in the valleys.
what other instruction
for a being of discernment?
what other lesson but this?
and to count the days
’til cuckoos and swallows.
and to keep to the constellations
of sheep and the openness
of lambs.

we shall end again soon enough.
peace is here
and it is sufficient for a whole universe.
and to watch the clouds pile
and drift at the setting sun.
and the smell of dew
on grass.

2016/04/img_1597.jpg

Read Full Post »

NARAYANA

Over time
We shall fly over time

As cormorants skim
Fast as black light and suns

Watching pattern ripples daze
A dress of taste

In another’s dream
Who sleeps

Near eternal, an
Ambient drone

Slow exhaled life
As warm as

Revolving about that
Dim heart distant

So constant to be forgot
And we

Floating as hawks
Tragic as angels

Longing to dip and fish
Those exquisite ripples

Understanding
But not caring

The illusion that is
Neither wave

Nor part
A weighing of not

This and not
That

Dazed by art
Longing to

Drown in it
Over time

We skim and hover
Become dream

For want of anything
More particular.

Read Full Post »

THERE, THE CHAPEL YEW

Three nights now the clatter whisper
Ricochet words follow fade of breath.

A landscape sloped and skittered:
One old tree, small in its alloted bounds
Hunkered, curled tight about its heart.

Webbed taught, knotting stone to iron
Grown from bones, grown from bones.

Where all reach skywards and open
Wind, rain, cloud, jackdaw, hawk,
Where the wild, freed leaf flies,
Where it forgets itself
Where it can taste new names.

It will bend down, bend down low,
Not caring, delving to the smallest
A jewel of dust, the truest glimmer,
Wish to be nothing other than this:

A long vowel hummed, light in darkness,
Tongue spilled, an ejaculation this stringed
Taut, eloquent ivy, fearlessly veined
A clothing for the other, braced and measured.

It ripples blindly about its subject
Blinked and blinded, the brightest termination
An alluded something spaced hauntingly.

Resolutely peripheral, as all living things are wont.
Unbeknownst, uncontained, avoiding rigour
Vaguely rivered, an unassuming continence,
A this and a that and a wealth in shadows.

In sleep, only, can come communicated equivalence,
The monitors drowsed and edges blunt.
Something akin to a sleepy reaching love
A convolution wordless felt and melted
Inhabiting the same dream, a sometimes,
An always and forever, harboured together:
Ocean Mind waved and curled.

2015/11/img_1756-0.jpg

Read Full Post »

THOU ART

this earth
breathed upon
(the warm breath
of love and lust)
holds for a little while
in wonder
then retreats
to sighing earth.
its breath
passed on.
a whisper
in the forest,
a gust
below the rocks
and the high heather.
where the kites
and ravens wheel.
and the sun and stars,
too, kindled, embers,
by that offered air.

2015/09/p1120609.jpg

Read Full Post »

vapours of heaven1 vapours of heaven3

THE VAPOURS OF HEAVEN

 

Shall they stray far,
These wandered thoughts,
Drenched with the vapours of heaven?
Shall they, distilled, sublimate,
Take new form, grow winged
Then smiling, dissolve?

Shall they, folded,
Nest upon timeless light.
Sleep, and wake golden,
Luminous, singing?
Shall they, without surcease,
Dance eternal energies,
Still named, at home
On vast, breathing cascades
Of space?

Shall they, (these thoughts),
Turn swallows, spin as swifts,
Light as thistledown, rise
Like willowherb, weightless,
A drift in summer,
A slow gentle breeze
Bird-filled?

Shall they stretch, sprout nerves,
Become sensible, grow good souls
With new names, find mouths
And lips and tongue
And sing their own song?

The vapours of heaven:
A saffron casket, rainbow-locked.
Small whispered bells,
Honey-lipped bees.

A sky stretched
To blue transparency.
A tent with purpose,
An unseen sea,
Scaled skin of cloud.

In amongst and between,
Within cloud and moving mists,
Droplets suspended awaiting surface:
To acquire direction, to know gravity,
To locate tidal choirs.

It is all music, all music,
Nothing but song.

vapours of heaven8 vapours of heaven26

These images are taken from a series of ink drawings, scanned and photographically enlarged to reveal strange details. The revealing of other structures formed a parallel word stream imagining thought/word becoming sentient of themselves, hence the text, as one possible accompaniment to the images. (Other possibilities included star names or quotes from the works of John Dee). Some of the images are pixelating because of extreme enlargement, so these I may remake as pencil drawings…

Read Full Post »

OWL-HEADED DAKINI DREAM

Owl-headed, lithe, folded,
Feathered.
Shock thundered voice:
Scythe words,
Harrow words,
Winnowed,
Fine-limbed spells.
Fingertipped, a weaving sined spin,
A cast out dance.

Sunlit surge in blue, fat sky.
A thousand green tongues
Hallowed.
Treasures rain,
Brushed light on lips.

Arched span a wing across.
Star chased, a trembled cascade.
Breathed dust, the burst
Before thought, bubbled,
Swirled, bowed.

Lean in, lean close.
A criss-crossed hum,
A bee jewelled drone
Truth stitched.

Skull bowl brain meal.
Glistening viscera
Steam slithered open.
All, all revealed.

My voice, a lute, a cuckoo.
A call distanced
By the fathoms of spring.

2015/05/img_1482-0.jpg

Read Full Post »

UNDOING

Sitting without time,
Outwith its wild unheard roar.

Moments snowmelt vanishing,
Undoing forgiven, unknowing acquiesced.

Oh, Birds of dawn, the hills are laced with cold.
Blue air placid, blanket weighed.

A roll of mist is daybreak,
A disassembly of constellations.

Sky ceiling lifts and breathes out.
Two ravens sliding sideways blackly.

The simplest lessons hardwon:
To rest without time,

All hungers melted.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: