I want to move closer into the heart of the world.
I want to feel
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
You. Primal thought;
but there’s much more, I
couldn’t write through
There’s poetry in everything
that 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
I can see it through my tears.
‘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
‘Staring down from the bridge
at the moon
in the river, who
could know, without looking
up, it stands whole above
its shattered self.’
– Tess Gallagher
Today I split myself in half
– then pieced myself back together
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
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
I hear fireworks.
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.
sat behind me
paint the place that’s in your head
with nothing else
hearing a song
having it stop
and still hearing the rest
It’s three women
watching and smiling
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.