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 30 July 2012


Begin anywhere

for instance here, where from time to time you turn, and the person you were who follows you is lagging further and further behind, dwindling until you look back one last time, and that you has gone

only an exhalation on the blue of the distant hills, fainter than smoke, than evening

and in front of you is the you you haven’t yet been, stepping down off the smoky mountainside, bare feet now on thyme and turf, dust sandy between your toes, oystercatchers keening, ocean sparking light – metallic, cobalt – ahead of you beyond the white strand with its tidelines of miniature shells

thoughts stripped down to this footstep, and this other, and no absence, no presence, can take away or add to this THIS

it all happens in a second, and it all happens in a continuum, like a Mobius strip


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