WORD OF EARTH ( “geo- logos”) – a dream stream.
(from “RECITATION” (3)
Measureless are the layering of voices stratifying the night. A geology of language. A wisdom of the earth. A voice of weight. A voice of remembering. Mutterings over herbs and hunted, mutterings around campfires, incoherant weepings in empty spaces, rocking, rocking inconsolable.
The few
who have pushed through,
who have passed to the other side of the sky,
where the stars walk
on two legs, like people,
in brightnesss,
in brightness.
They find the rhythmic chants spinning out of the web along its thin, strong lines, its reliable patterns, its junctures. They weave and weave in and out of song, free to find and to lose form, to remember and to forget, but always to return to the axis, climbing their own spine-tree just for the view, just for the view.
In the dark,
snakes and daggers.
The hungry fingers, the hungry eyes.
To be sent out
and not to return home
empty-handed.
To never be bereft again, never that spun hollowness where power pulls to the edges and breathes itself away in a silence more devastating than sobs.
Click, clack,
the needles go.
Snip, snap
the shears.
She gathers up,
she gathers in,
she counts the knots,
she raises the winds.
She claps her hands and waves boil. The black cat weaves between her calves, purring. Patter, patter on the wet sand. The strings move deft between cold fingertips. A catching of moments. They are so intrigued, so curious like cats, like moths, these spirits clamber and elbow in to see more. Sticky wisdom traps them as flies. Their syllables mirrored and pronounced, taken from thin lips, pointed tongues, and turned, turned and shaped, malleable soul breath mingled to free the dreaming souls of drowned sailors anchored in the black, black starless deep.
They float and turn slowly.
Increments of light
bounce around empty eye sockets.
Teeth shed like wheat,
like barley, nicotine-stained.
Worn thin
and grazed by little fishes,
little fishes,
scoured by starfish,
bored by worms.
They rise and feel the release of water’s weight. They rise and rise, blow and shatter to powder, diatom dust. Turned song for whales, cathedrals of breathing space.
Oceans : just unfamiliar skies.
Skies : just uncharted oceans.
Skiff and wherry,
stars tacking dimensional tides,
solar winds,
trawling the chants,
the glimmer scale words,
the protection mantras, the seeds, the forms, the road home.
——
Conversations with Invisible Friends (4)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awareness, bereavement, blogposts, commentaries, grief, Haiku, inspirations, moments, origami, Poetry, time, wordplay, words on July 8, 2013| 2 Comments »
Conversations with invisible friends(4). Herewith, before they get overlain with other things, another collection of bits and bobs inspired by the blog posts of others. For which I am very grateful….
BIG ROCK
Warm sun
And the dance of laughter,
Sinking deep.
(The weight of stone
Is its memory
Of moving things).
—-
MOTE
Speculation,
moving specks:
what is in my eye,
I see.
It may be clarity,
or clouded vision.
A message
or misinterpretation.
—-
ORIGAMI POEM
Fold mind
Fold sound
Find word
Sharp lines
Open, closed
Tip of tongue
Held between lips
This way
Then that way
Frozen form flows
Into paper.
—-
SOUND ANALYSIS
Great folds of rock!
A lovely beach of curled words
and washed reaches.
What is not “supplement”?
(such a French word
made clunky 3:4 ,
almost an engine jive
with a touch of 4:4
(that gear change between ‘n’ and ‘t’,
a secret hidden pause as the mouth adjusts).
Mouth music.
—
OLD PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPH
Black and white
frozen light.
Eternalising
the inconsequent
moment.
LKeeping the fleeting
flicker of instants.
Remembering how easy
it is to forget.
Stealing souls or
letting them live
forever?
—–
WAITING ROOM (FUGUE)
When the real
Pushes hard
We slip shattered
Holding still.
Stretched
Transparent, even,
Beyond help
(though never really).
Timeless
Between events
Distanced, grey,
Ghosted hollow by
Too many endings.
Sloughing skins.
Abandoning identities
That fail
(as if they were ever
Sure or sound).
Uncertain of echoes..
–
Tracing grey worlds
Mapping consequences
Of beginning and ending.
Sloughing identity,
Ghosted hollow…
–
When the real
Pushes hard
We slip shattered
Holding still.
Stretched
Transparent, even,
Beyond help
(though never really)
Sloughing identity,
Ghosted hollow.
Somewhere
Weeping.
—
CELLULAR
It is cellular,
how the body grieves,
despite tutting mind,
bright-rouged beliefs.
It is the bones,
the guts,
mycelial nerves.
The hymn of cells,
eternal charnel and chantry,
never expecting anything
other than to pass on,
to pass on,
to cancel,
to forget,
to never forget.
—
ETERNAL EPHEMERA
How still
The lashes of your eyes
Searching words
How still
How long
The slow rise of your breath
Searching peace
How long
How fine
The enamelled morning
Blue, shadowed
How fine
How light
The dive of swallows
above buttercup shine
How light
How still, how long
How fine, how light,
This filigree life
Floating skywards
—-
SPILT LIGHT
Crackled clear
not yet broken.
Hold on or let go.
You will not be forgotten.
—-
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