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

Tuesday, 19 July 2011


Checking out Thurlbear Woods in the Blackdowns today (wind and swaying sunlight, ancient broadleaf woodland, prehistoric trackways, herepaths, crossing-points) for a Littorals poetry & land art workshop...

As close as a lover's face –
how many storms have shaken it
how many rivers traced its creases
beetles' feet confided in its cracks and crevices
lives flashed beneath it
hands reached to touch, caress, its wizened bark
as I do, now, in my own brief passing?


  1. The lichen
    Kinda liken
    The cracks
    That licken
    The bark

  2. That's helpful, Michael, thank you. I can see I'll have to move over in the poetry field. Now perhaps you'll consider the idea of moulding clay burrs to oaks??? x

  3. Oh the clay birds! No no".....yes clay burrs would be lovely...a poet I could never be just a word jester..x


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