Monday, 23 May 2016

the light rising in the sky tells us we're back here again and you pull the absence you can not/will not identify tighter around yourself and make no attempt to name those things that should not be limited by vocabulary.

Saturday, 21 May 2016

in that soft darkened alcove drinking the last of the light
poised on the edge of sacred boundaries,
redrawn and torn to shreds.
you wont like what you're going to see
dwelling here in the shade reflecting back your life
somebody should hold me back,
still moving from and to the point of origin.
and carnivorous.
you need not breathe through me,
or hold yourself in,
your stars were never lost.
but these monsters sleep lightly beside the holy ghosts
patiently fading in and out of focus moving beneath my skin.
watching the moment create itself
in more than fractal patterns when i close my eyes ,
but they're wide open to witness the unfurling,
to look my shadow in the face, to find the path to the centre.
so roll up your sleeves we're going in
after an abundant swell of quiet noticing. let me introduce myself...

Sunday, 17 April 2016

like a dervish spinning with the stars shaking in the dark
breaking through your salt circles 
attentive to what the body knows.
you need not shed your skin or beg.
" love is the opposite of gravity", someone once said. 

i meant it.

of them all. three

on being possessed

shadows beckon the amber light dancing arias across their greedy skin.
white sage burns and burns unable to rid my heart of it's hauntings.
it's ghosts.
and the sword i swallowed just catches in my throat from time to time
on the days i almost sing.

under dust and dirt, all this

i guess i would be a strange place to bury any kind of treasure. still, a few have done it. planted their gold deep in this house of music where evolution and regression are witnessed on a daily basis. places among the tiny ruins caused by damage done before, but where growth occurs ripping through the tangle of crossed wires and the pre-made blueprints they had thought i would measure up to with passionate indifference. you see my shadows but even they change depending on the way the light shines. perhaps the way emerges when we realise that we're all haunted. haunted, but not doomed. how can we be doomed when we each hold the key to doors already unclosed? so, like a book you open me. you open me because i let you. because you come in my sleep when i sing in prayers laced with the scent of the night's own hunger. your skin i will paint with fingers. decorate with X. and show you how it happens so slow, the blossoming.. and yet it happens...

shape shifting

the night
amplifies the quiet noises
where nothing
only my certainty falters
and i swim through stars
too big for you to swallow.
dear t,

for the gift of being able to physically hold my younger self,
for placing a mirror between you and I and excavating what's there,
for birthing a book of hymns that makes my edges less solid,

'thank you'
isn't big enough.

"there was earth inside them, and they dug"
~ paul celan

stars too, I think.


Wednesday, 30 March 2016

a dance. the moon in moderation. moving blood and tides. the choice isn't yours to make. but maybe i'll love you sideways. "show me", i said. and you did. breathe real slow. say not a word. piece by piece i'll build you. sing you clear as day. i'm crawling walls you don't see. blood red fingers. bruised knees. circle me with your five senses and then some. and break all over me.

Sunday, 27 March 2016

accidental excavations

fallen to the floor the mandalas you rocked and spun on your hips. now you hold still and undone in the centre listening to more than moving mouths spilling more or less than what they want to say. a kindness complicated by the anonymous shifts and overlaps of tangled heartstrings and the interlocking rings of the coronas of our lives expanding. always the business of feeding the fire, burning and rising, begging the dark to come because there are things that do not sleep, but slip into the cracks to break loose and shatter the refuge found in disguise that only turns you into an echo of yourself like a lingering presence you can't quite touch. a summons to revel in your own electric storms crashing white...