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.
Friday, 29 April 2011
margins - the practice of writing
- ► 2017 (68)
- ► 2016 (88)
- ► 2015 (78)
- ► 2014 (123)
- ► 2013 (157)
- ► 2012 (199)
- tasting the seven seas (zen)
- margins - the practice of writing
- how to love hornets
- (poem) everything there is wild and tender
- PS to (Kant) reason & intuition (& take 2)
- me & Immanuel Kant
- Zen, credo and nothingness
- mythos, logos & cave paintings
- (poem) the circle of the world
- poem: a geological hour, by Rebecca Gethin
- mindfulness take 2
- 'to poison a nation, poison its stories'
- (poem) how hard it is to speak of happiness
- Begin Anywhere, Begin Somewhere
- (poem) walker between the worlds
- kayaks, cusps, peak experiences & the canto hondo
- already more on mermaids
- (poem) to go beyond: Bridget Thomasin
- of mirrors, mermaids, the past and the future
- Reeling in the Fish (the practice of writing)
- Libya: that whiff of oil...
- (poem) this being human
- (prose poem) small benedictions of finches' wings
- the purple sprouting broccoli of the bourgeoisie
- the slow singing of stones (inc. poem)
- Islands: immensity & emptiness (inc poem)
- Mull & Iona: heartlands & homelands
- ▼ April (27)