Thursday, December 31, 2015
And they have become a ritual.
I've learned to crave each glimpse of you
Between the accreting stars.
I gave myself to them instead.
You had always given me enough and more.
And now, from this other side,
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
It's you, the one the night calls friend,
You, the girl with faceless dreams.
Perch yourself beside the moon
And you will see the girl I see.
Who can wake you as a rose
Nodding kindly with the wind?
The trees will find their fingertips
Before you bare your breast to them.
My fingers beat upon the table
Against the grains of time and space.
I watch you dancing in the minefields
And pray one day you'll find this place.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Saturday, May 16, 2015
That night, I went through my usual walk through the gas-lit tunnel that ferried me across the river between two lives. There was water dripping from the ceiling onto the mortared stone floor and it reminded me of a stone engraving from the barrows of our ancestors. "Dripping water hollows the stone". And as I walked alone in that desolate place, transfixed to the plip of the seeping groundwater, I pondered which of my lives was becoming the stone and which the water.
Monday, February 16, 2015
From up there, at the top of the sky, I could see - I mean actually see - the thousands of miles of water transforming and dissipating and collecting again. I could see the rocky earth and the countless trees and blades of grass borne upon its back, bathing in the warm starlight of sol. All this magnificence that was living and breathing, turning the soil and drinking the air: I could feel inside myself a part of every organism that was or is or will be a part of it. And only then could i hear the voice that had long been whispering to me who it was I would become.