We come with no knowledge to this place and share nothing with each other of the essential key that grows inside us like a living being, limned in gold, far more precious than the blatant, bleating answers we all seek, and seeking, sometimes find. That essence is more powerful than any knowledge gained or lost,…Read more Connection and Peace.
it was months ago when i picked rosehips along my path home by the sea, slipping each one like a little gold nugget into the pockets of my grey, zip-up jumper. i’d imagined doing it so many, many times, like a child in a candy shop, reaching up to pluck the beauties down; this time,…Read more i dream of rosehip tea.
you reach out a hand to pull sky down the stars, yes the heavens themselves are but bread to you, so break it, break it all upon the ground, shake this broken universe until it begs for release from the ungodly bass of your voice; your ego polishes its own brass to trumpet a truth…Read more Capital
My own particular brand of bleak is firm, and unambiguous enough to recognise our dark as a basic truth: the world-rending fire of the human soul is fearsome, yet only another face of the death seeded so deeply within us. But bleak is neither black nor white, only barren -- and what is barrenness but…Read more Realism.s
at the end of days all days, including today, I am terrified of tomorrow, as if every sleep is a death, a dreamless, black hole that will drain away and shadow all future colour and life ~ I know it not to be so, but there is knowing and there is knowing, and until I…Read more Potent.ial
The world gets into our pores and writes on us lines with the clay of earth, warmth of sun bite of wind caress ; sorrow & joy clog our faces with our insides, the experience of our lived Grind:connected. Existentially, we are slow-born sculptures that tell of a daring hand a fiery eye, laced with…Read more Pores
https://youtu.be/808nTiXLam8 I’m still in this place. Sometimes it seems I never leave. * Gallery, 2014 Imagine, if you will a gallery piece installed, a row of plants at progressing stages of growth, lined up in pots and flash-frozen in time, breathing cold puffs, crystalline almost synthetic. Imagine also the moment the exhibit starts to disintegrate, freeing gouged…Read more Grey
-- "...I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given…Read more Everything Unresolved
Hello all 🙂 Thank you all so much for your support. Idiolalia is available straight from the printer now at 3 GBP or 5 USD each (or a cheaper PDF ebook copy). If you order from Lulu through the link provided here it should be sent straight to your house, super-easy. The price may change…Read more Idiolalia Poetry Collection Now Available!
"...And death itself began working backwards..." A tree grows up into the light, oxygen-laden air from out of the dark, decaying remains of its parent. Forest fires are part of the cycle of a healthy forest. Ever noticed that serving someone makes your heart more glad than being served. In my own experience, dying to…Read more Memo # 8 ~ Deep River (Shusako Endo)
A Legend and A Life Story: Who was Saint Francis of Assisi? St. Francis of Assisi’s spiritual life was unfathomable even to those around him while he lived, but they attempted to write about him nonetheless. Many contradictions exist in the literature about him, in the things he is said to have accomplished and events…Read more A Legend & A Life Story: Who was Saint Francis of Assisi?
Memo #5 ~ Simone Weil and Stringfellow The nature of Love is, enigmatically, found in perpetual Act, defined in the solitude granted within the oneness of intimacy, elusive as vapor and yet as ever-present and powerful as well. The nature of Love is dialectical, overpowering and underwhelming at the same time, in the tiny details…Read more Memo #5
Bent old woman, past all youth, her been- there- done- that -- sufficient. "Can't teach an old dog new tricks, you know", I know, everyone agrees with a shrug. All things are best left exactly as growth and evolution left them and once maturity has been reached there is no Hope of newness. "We must…Read more Barren
Solstice There is little snow on the ground when you begin your morning walk on this the shortest day of the year. This is the season of gathering cold, the fading memory of spring. Light flows slowly through the woods, a light you could harvest like grain or scoop into your astonished mouth the way…Read more From For the Light
this cool breeze reaches me through crAcked this window, freshly filled my lungs, with oxgyen-laden truths. my ears taste tiny drops of rain -- so many millions hit smooth decking at Once: jUmp, lay still. my senses are soothed, surrounded by the joining of guitar chords dancing heart-to-mind-to-fingers and the sound of rain-drip-dropping, pat-a-rat-tatting, sky…Read more :Scarred Sky Weeping:
[response to a selection of handouts on Continental Philosophy] c. Mary Kathryn Gough (maiden: Huffman), 2003(?) It seems to me that the 'reorientation of philosophy in this tradition' is essentially a very healthy one The idea of saving philosophy as a discipline from itself definitely has a lot of merit. Although philosophy is a worthy…Read more Continental Assignment 1
there really is a magic in -- a lifting out of -- oneself that occurs in any human relationship: the complicated weave of displacement, replacement and implacement, an elastic flow of faith --delicate-- requiring two very different and distinct threads linked with a recognized and indescribable Other (submission) --steadfast-- guileless love leaving the heart wide…Read more _willingly_bound_