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.
Monday, 9 January 2012
a dream built block by hand-made block dissolving
and across the valley in the quickening January light I see that the little rammed-earth roundhouse with its arched hobbit windows and its not-quite roof, a dream built block by hand-made block and abandoned when the marriage broke up has, in the last days of torrents and gales, completely
And here we are, third planet in line from the one-of-many suns; I could weep for the terror and beauty of impermanence, and the dreams we offset against it, and this laden speeding-up small planet spinning through the forever sky, and we with our little lives clinging so tightly to the wrong things, the ones that can never save us from
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