I AM Grateful For My Breath

 

 

I breathe the coloured air

cool

like Autumn

morning

teaspoon in a cup.

 

A touching

clear

precision the dawn brings with it,

a focus, an esteem of something new;

like Womanness.

 

‘Womanness,’ he said, just a word, a new word,

or more…

a strange word,

a strange man, but real maybe…..

 

WO MAN (is this) NESS (ecary)

(ecstasy)

(empty)

(balance)

(desire)

desire for balance

desire for Woman ness.

 

Womb…Man…Nest…

more or less

 

I don’t know

let me pause for a moment between

breaths………………….

 

 

 

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Backyard In The Morning When Thinking About My Mum

 

Blue dog has brown eyes

Love is a fact.

 

Sneaky birds stand tall.

 

Blue dog sniffs the tree, scratches with her paw,

then

stretching she turns her attention to froth at

the bottom of my cup.

 

SIGH

 

Clothes relax on the line

 

broken gun

 

just colour now and fluorescent lizard

languid,

on his back

somehow intact.

 

Feathered people talk and sing

 

a tired Babylon fell today.

 

What’s up there in the purple tree?

green leaves?

Secrets?

 

Not really, not if I stretch my legs and climb.

 

Foliage like spoons or fingers…..

 

Sip

it.

 

I am the morning

nothing is really still.

 

The air is a soupy book.

 

Some say god made it

I say,

It was my Mum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Words Like Grass



Blades.

Words.

Tall and tangled

seeming free to float,

gesticulate and cut!

THEN in thoughtless rushing,

words like grass

push together,

leave air wet

form a tributary or tendril

(with sex or perfume)

confuse the mind, flicker the eye

and wrap around my finger

to create a memory

little bird


little bird with yellow beak

sits in empty frangipanni tree

perfect

it trips and hops

is happy

i am happy

to see this thing….the life,

and beautiful COLOUR

so inviting that my body wants to die and fall apart

to be the bird, the beak

and the tree.

Fleeting

 

 

slipping

fingers

in-between

fingers,

slender-pink

rose light

sliding,

through a window

in my beating heart.

i skim the temporary

fragrance

that is you,

the ribbons

of connection

swallow

me

in a blanket of

love,

i savour

The Cave – Forbidden Love

 

 

I hate this

ene r g [Y],

trying to stay hidden

but NOT,

instead it flows with friction rough intensit[Y]

like a sucking thing……

oh the cave is so warm

but I am cold.

You pull into me, in some way

and my heart L E A P S  the space between us

like a little fool with striped stockings and a funny hat.

I am angry

but the material on my body melts away,

how close can we get?

What is down there

in the corner

of the cave,

deep in the back where the light can hardly reach?

I hate you for this

and I love you too

you are it seems

aglow

[worm]

 

Dry Water

 

 

Dry……

over nothing not something

………………..

blank look

dusty tongue,

paper dry

underfoot,

toes shy

away….    ….        …………

too dry.

Mind hiding

empty fear

parched

impressions,

left

here.

Falsely still,

chalky

friction.

A

void?

 

Something (forgotten) not nothing……

something

rushing,

filling,

flowing choking

not dust but,

wet

thick

deep

water

dirty,

water

clean

wet

growth

primordial damp

hiding

mossy bones,

and…………………,

teeth.

Wet  R U S H E S

silver baubles streaming……

ruthless blue,

clearly

waiting

relentlessly.

.

.

patiently. . . . . .

under  dry

water.

 

 

 

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Emotional musings- emotionspassion@gmail.com

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