The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.
Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Thursday, 24 July 2014
- crossroads, shamanism and not writing of hares
- the cataclysm of catechism cycle (poem)
- the white room (another q&a poem)
- 'What stories do the ancient woodlands tell?'
- questions sacred & profane (poem)
- The Dharma of Beenleigh
- 'the meeting' (sheena odle)
- before the world was made
- ... and we're off...
- hmmm... addendum to yesterday
- poetry: q & a
- if at first you don't succeed... try the tao of im...
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