from BARDO

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.

Roselle Angwin

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

autumn rain, dusk

Heron trawls the valley, time in its wings.
Barn owl draws night across the quartered field.


  1. I love it, Roselle. I assume it's your painting. Almost abstract but not. I saw it move very slightly as I looked at it and I'm neither drunk nor stoned! Lovely words too. I'll try the refreshing limit of two lines.

    Shall return to yesterday's and hope to respond.
    Keep on, keep on.
    Love, Miriam.

  2. Thank you, dear Miriam. Yep - my painting, now firmly ensconced in a Bern apartment, chez Beatrice, as in Iona... I smiled at the moving image and your reputed lack of intoxicants to explain it!

    It's such a relief, two-liners. Do try it. I forbid more :-).

    Love to both. Rx

  3. Miriam I mean 'alleged' not 'reputed'! Three days' solid of 10 hours or so per day on assignments for poetry courses - brain gone soft... Rx

  4. Reputed? Well, once upon a time it might've been. Now – any more than a finger's width of wine and I'm spinning like a top.
    10 hours of poetry assignments – ah yes, it's the end of the month. I remember it well. Sleep tight, but not too tight(!) M.


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