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.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
where I put a word down
and then another
where night and day
amount to the same thing
where 'no beginning/no end'
makes as much sense
as anything else
where the boulders take the hit
of photons with
all of themselves
where rain and sun marry me
to earth air water
where I give up my name
where I am another glyph
*Alasdair Paterson's new book on the governing of empires has each poem title beginning with 'on', a motif I borrow for the title of this one.
- ► 2017 (58)
- ► 2016 (88)
- ► 2015 (78)
- ► 2014 (123)
- ► 2013 (157)
- ► 2012 (199)
- What-are-the-birds-doing-with-the-December-sky rap...
- hiatus, line break, passion, love
- the return of the light
- winter ghosts, synchronicity & David Whyte
- Winter solstice
- merrivale for the midwinter solstice
- in all these moments I make my home
- the next military dictatorship
- the art of conscious relationship
- Word Quest: radio interview
- metaphors and 'the long dark teatime of the soul'
- Andy Brown POETRY
- cursing on the rowan tree
- karma (take 2) (or more)
- wuthering heights
- a rant on being unemployable
- getting out of your own light
- on regeneration
- never too late for redemption
- 'never enough darkness to extinguish a single cand...
- ▼ December (21)