July

I want to move closer into the heart of the world.

I want to feel

with it.

I want melody to dance through my skin.

This is all we have.

As much control as we had in our arrival

Is how little we’ll have upon departing

*when you live in each moment, you’ll find yourself with less plans. Stop looking forward

It’s hurting

You. Primal thought;

I

want

him.

but there’s much more, I

couldn’t write through

The poetry in everything

we’ve ever said to each other. I guess that’s how you know

A single note is played, 

sent into space,

pulsing through the layers

we can’t see.

Everything about that moment, and the one before, and the one after, is different.

The note dissolves, and still remains

ringing somewhere.

I can see it through my tears.

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On beauty and love

‘There are so many kinds of beauty. Some people love roundness and softness, and other people love sharp edges and strong muscles.

Some people like thick hair like a lion’s mane, and other people like thin hair that pours down like an inky waterfall, and some people love someone so much they forget what they look like.

Some people think the night sky full of stars at midnight is the most beautiful thing imaginable, some people thing it’s a forest in snow…

There are a lot people with a lot of ideas about beauty. And love. When you love someone a lot, they just look like love.’

– Rebecca Solnit

Enough

Today I split myself in half

– then pieced myself back together

 

No –

I handed over my heart and body

– then accepted them straight back again

 

The richest man would have nothing but a map

of where the fuck he was headed

 

but the rest of us will walk straight into walls

No –

self immolate, with a smile

– perhaps recognising what we’ve done, at around the half-way points.

 

There’s something in that, even if it doesn’t have a name, nor usually any fans.

I can feel fire, I can touch colours, I can see love, I can look down

and there’s nothing left –

but my Self

A story about fish

I hear fireworks.

No really,

I hear fireworks.

I can hear some white noise, but I think there’s something else too –

a heartbeat beside my own,

or is it? There’s not a lot I’m certain of,

other than my longing for certainty. 

When I was younger I had a pond I’d clean out every so often

I’d transport my fish friends to temporary bucket homes

by sticking my bare hands out and feeling around in the cold unknown

It’d happen so fast, you never knew when

there’d be a split second defying space, time and the laws of fish (which at age seven, are really all one knows).

For a second I’d expand beyond the possible,

and my heart would stop with theirs.

There’s not a lot I’m certain of, 

but I knew that was love

and I know you are too. 

October

Love is:

hearing a song

having it stop

and still hearing the rest

 

It’s three women

watching and smiling

fat lorikeets

eating apples from a tree

 

It’s looking at those trees

through squinted eyes

turned silver white

and seeing them line heaven 

 

It’s being met

at a cliff edge 

by the reassurance of Wind

and a warm womb of green

 

It’s a reflex of thought

that seeks the pulse

of a treasured stranger

in the far nearby

 

It’s having a fire 

that burns a path

towards a place

that seems already familiar.