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

Monday, 16 April 2012


'An excellent practice of pilgrimage is praise-singing'
(Phil Cousineau)

To this earth, still turning
To these bluebells, ramsons, dog's mercury
To the malachite head of the mallard on the leat
To the frosted watermeadows and the wading waterbirds
To the dog's brief breath in a shaft of misted sun
To the blossom-bent boughs of the bird cherry
To this eruption of spring
To this mouth that can speak or keep silent
To these eyes, that can speak without words

(after Thomas A Clark)

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