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.
- ► 2019 (27)
- ► 2018 (32)
- ► 2017 (68)
- ► 2016 (88)
- ► 2015 (78)
- ► 2014 (123)
- ► 2013 (157)
- ► 2012 (199)
- lughnasadh: John Barleycorn must die
- hayfields, horse-dung & blossom
- speaking of now
- architecture of a wasps' nest
- political extremism and acts of hatred
- pool, your life as a novel, wildlife, Bly on poetr...
- being another syllable
- never mind cleansing the doors of perception - bre...
- and then there are other days
- there are days...
- that tricky axis: intimacy & solitude
- Zen & the art of motorcycle maintenance take two
- a book blog: Jason Kirkey; and A Printmakers' Poet...
- notes from the courtyard
- the inland sea behind us
- the waters before
- ego, the wild, the west & a hornets' nest: Part 11...
- ego, the wild, the west & a hornets' nest: Part 1
- the crucible of the garden/hortus conclusus
- heaven's breath
- not a poem about sex
- summer day writing courses
- what is poetry for? & poetry as cultural therapy
- leaving only ripples...
- ▼ July (27)