Saturday, October 25, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Work (first draft)
National Poetry Day, Bath UK 2008
When the work of going to the office
Fell away from me
The smooth clack of to do lists ticking
The ordered stationery
The linear threads of projects following through each other
My hands were empty of myself
And full of uncertainty.
Full of tiny lives and the mad blue hours
Awake when the restless horde on trains seemed still
Looking out onto moonlit gardens
At our unkempt hedges
My own raggedy attempts
To claw back the ravages to my will
Say this is work.
Working love invisible
Each fold each smooth each bend
Soggy runnels of water
Clothes plates children floors eyes
I am more and more invisible
Each day full, each day filled
Needs more work, needs more love.
Needs the still center, like I need it
Walking the knife blade, burns
Meridians blossoming beneath my hands
Light crackling, intent on showing paths
Full, I am the empty vase
Trusting to the adept work of my palms.
copyright remains with the author October 2008
Photo by Kak Teh
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
The bittersweet green smell of freesias reminds me of when we were young and starry eyed, and although we had no money and hardly a stick of furniture between us, I'd still sometimes get a bunch of freesias, or lilies or red tulips.