Thursday, 2 July 2015

joy. a definition

legs still moving
circles moving circles
small stone rubbing small stone 
tectonics in miniature
delicious crunch under weight
lightness of motion
then the ease and release of grip
(not control)
trust, balance, alignment
and the feeling of a body in flight
i tilt my head, covetous
for the sensation of july's warm breath on my neck
whilst fumbling
in my battered purse for the right change,
attempting to fathom the reason that this
- change -
is the name given to coins..

"as opposed to",

"to make, or become different",

"instead of"

as in movement.

july into august and days circled for ceremony.
a new name. a broadening of edges.

change -

"in addition to"...

Tuesday, 30 June 2015

morning. a moment

6am. i open the windows to let in the quiet and the soft and listen to joanna three months too early. the lazy lavender wilts under it's own weight out there on the ledge as i attempt to quench the morning thirst of all the green because more often than not, i forget at night.

the months feel different this year. like someone cut the thread that binds them to their corresponding season. i worry, but recall several days ago lying belly to the ground, svadhisthana throbbing and imagining the disintegration of edges and feeling close...

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

at any one time

i am thinking about what's to come and all that could have been and was, about the way the night lifts up her silver skirt of stars to herald today, about well crafted standards and cerebral souvenirs, of the shapes a body makes during sleep.

i am thinking how beautifully the right angles, white, frame the view and the way so many people are so eager for everything now, about rules and niceties and language that would continue to come even if tongues were cut from mouths.

language in all it's ragged and impolite glory, in all shades of red and beautiful.

language - as though it were everything.

i am thinking about instinct and allegiances quietly pledged to the heart of green and blue and gold, thinking about the strength and fragility of the miracle of our bodies, about the way she knew it was time to go and wasn't scared.

i am thinking about breath and reconnection, of slipping less freely into costume and character concealing darknesses tucked in secret corners. about containment and contradiction, about the way your throat gets sore from everything caught there scratching to get out.

i am thinking about our failure to learn from history. of our failure as a whole to 'get it'.

i am thinking about the physical sensation of a body fighting for a life it's growing, about the magnetism of the deep shades. and of the reassurance of the push and grab and perpetual tides that come and come and come.

Friday, 24 April 2015

..from the next room the sound of the clock's constant counting, both taunting and reassuring in it's always. the window frames the image of the spire armoured in geometric patterns like scales pointing to the sky split into cardinal points. a sky the opposite of yesterday's vibrance. contemplative in it's lack of colour and befitting of the mood. bare feet firm on the ground three flights up as embers are stoked and intentions in silence are set...

Thursday, 23 April 2015

everywhere all manner of circles

crossing over. liquid shimmer.
destined. determined.
what bliss the passive riverbed must feel,
ecstatic from the water's constant silken caress.
the pungent scent of wild garlic stains fingers.
winged ones dance in colour.
trees sing in different voices.
a welcoming. all the births.
from non death bursting forth.
green unfurls in moist newness.
everywhere all manner of circles.

Wednesday, 22 April 2015

from the beginning

in a place where night barely comes
the crowned heart in all it's vastness.

relentless dismantling of measurements
between earth and water
yet submissive to the elements.

force of nature, wild and untamed
speaking truths
that fail to make you wince
and of things that do not die.

on the ground strewn skins
scratched with the words

the sun sits on shoulders broad and strong
making itself dizzy.

beads of sweat
gather in the curves of backs.

skin sticky and seduced
by the idea of all that waits
in the growing shadows and abundant light.

skin that mostly holds us
inside it's outlines
and thickens
in the healing over of old wounds.          

but still
- bite hard.       

a thousand years ago and to come
the names were given
- flight, knife, breath, fire, swell,
knot, she, earth,
black, stone, blood.

hollows carved in chests
to make room
for the clouds and seas to part.

a perpetual becoming
forever at the threshold,
the edge of chaos,
poised to break the membrane
and blow your own mind...