Posts Tagged ‘return’


When we look so close at life inside us,
it simply becomes a tree of madness
where ghosts host and catcall,
swapping bodies and their nightmare mysteries
( from which we have never, ever, recovered).
Such strange animals. So many hands.
So many dances. So many attributes.
A collective deity ( or a pan Demonium).
There is a clue in it all somewhere,
a clue, a clew, a thread, a maze,
a spider, a monster, an eater of the charming ones,
a hungry axis, a deliverer,
a coin on his eyes and on his tongue.
The rite of the Opening of the Mouth,
escaping gravity through the small angled shaft,
homing on the singular, most singular star.
Dust to dust. An assay of hearts
before the animal-headed ones.
We are Jongleur, kindly admit us.
Remove our head. Give us the bliss of love and asses.
Return us whole to the world without end.
And let us cease to burn.
Let our mouths be filled with the cool waters.
Seven rivers from the Garden.
A lascivious sprouting of leaves, a splayed, secret hand of fig.


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slate blue red3

(Sheaval, Barra)

To bring us home safe
She waits upon the hillside.
To bring us home safe –
Old roads straight worn
From loch to lochan.

The cry of seagulls
From the land
Lost in mists.


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TURNED, GONE ON (requiem)

Stillness now, lost blue and empty silence.
After wracked storm, tearing breath,
Tangled rain. The howling
Has ceased, calm, calm.

Where sun reaches, there
Is hope of a little warmth.
But little warmth in shade,
Little warmth when the face
Turns away from light.

Calm void where you have gone,
Spacious, rested, freed from pain of time.
Naked void where you were,
Are, no longer.
The empty fields,
The stiff sloped horizon,
The days ahead unformed, vast.

These winter roads
Will lead to a surprise of spring,
But not soon, not soon.
Not before the world becomes ragged.
It must become ready, choosing, too,
Letting go what is,
Letting uncertainty bloom.
Too tired to breathe
One last slow, drawn out,
Whispered breath.

The void of skies
Fills slowly with new cloud dreams.
The scoured earth will clothe its scars
In new skins of green life.
The hollows will slowly fill,
The woods, they will be bound in birdsong.
It will become gentle, dancing once more.
But not soon,
Not soon.

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sunlit buddha

although thy spirit wanders in what has been or in what will be,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

although thy spirit be far away, lost in lip-cracked desolation,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

although thy spirit be far away, fled beyond the seven oceans,
beyond the stilled, rippled wave,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

although thy spirit be far away, in the sun, in the moon, howling
between the stars, lost disconsolate,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

although thy spirit has gone far away, to the proximal regions of space, seeking warmth at the fires of the old ones,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

although thy spirit is raven-ripped, claw-tongued, dipped dark
in deep ravines of anger, lost, raving,
i bring back that spirit of thine, to dwell here, to live long.

in the silent forests, in the wild forests, in the nurturing forests, in the hopeless dawn, in crumbled twilight,

i have here given your soul its own name and it must answer.
it will gather up, and it will be gathered up,

it shall become winged and comforted,
it shall return, it shall return.


fallen blossoms

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moon leans down.
spirit of the departed
pale, smiling.

in the yakitori bar
every face
a character from Hiroshige.

we bend to each other
at the unfailing sorrow
of our human condition.
sake tasting
of tears.

warm night
cicadas tisk and tut:
our homeward staggering.


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Shortest of days
Exquisite punctuation.

The golden egg
Hatching new time.

Birth-waters reflect still,
Cold blue skies.

Mist in the mountains,
Mist in the valleys.

Those that can,

All others expire,

Returning from the edges
To the centre.




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Dissolving, dissolving into light.

On a day such as today,
Filled with sunlight
And drifting gently
Into May-time,
If choice were
To be given,
If choice were possible,

On such a day
Would I choose
To melt away
To relax and let go
To return to stillness.

Eyes closed
In a garden,
Slowly breathing
the fragrance
Of lilac.

Thoughts floating
Between the spinning
Hum of bees,
The sweet song
Of blackbirds,

With no more desires,
No more questions.
Happy to turn away
Free from yearning,
Free from regret.

Descending into sleep,
As when a child,
To the sounds
Of other gardens
Other birdsong
Other laughter.

Turning to dust,
Dissolving into light.
Nothing to remember.

A quiet day of April peace,
Nothing remarkable,
An old man
Sleeping in the sun.

Into the evening-

The first stars
Of a perfect
blue day.


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