lord, keep on wandering…

psalm 22, SAID

lord
keep on wandering forever and never
settle down
because no dwelling places remain
only footsteps
be loud and urgent
share in my life and my passions
accompany me
all the way to your bread
so that my word might wake

…lend me your wooden horse….

Reality always has another face,

the face of every day,
the one we never see,
the other face of time.

Manuel:
lend me your wooden horse
to go off to the other side of this side.
Reality is more real in black and white.

– from ‘Facing Time,’ by Octavio Paz –

And Persephone Releases Coyote to Seek Out the Heart of the World

And so that “Unspeakable Girl,” that dynamic force and presence, returns to mark our Spring. – Leslie D. Bartlett

Tuunbaq

“Everything is in motion, everything teems.”
~Gaston Bachelard~ Earth and Reveries of Repose

Deep studies of the Cape Ann Ices invite my predawn visit, return viewings at dusk in winter as the temperature scales down, winds pick up, and the human visual sense is sloughed off. As cold enters the arms, the legs, the extreme weather opens my soul…

Tuunbaq – winter 2009

+

The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men…

“So may you live in honour, as in name,
If with this truth you be inspired;
So may
This day
Be more and long desired;
And with the flame
Of love be bright,
As with the light
Of bonfires! then
The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men.”
– Ode to Sir William Sidney on His Birthday, Ben Johnson –

firmamentum…

“When the Sky was separated from the Earth
— Firmly held together up to then —
And when the goddess mothers appeared.”
[Sumerian & Akkadian creation story]

For on the birthday, the horizon opens & yields to the sky.

And so a birthday week to share with all birthdays this week….

The Angel of Innocence Equals….

the angle of Reflection

Weep No More Fair Rockport Willow….

Your roots
Secure
History …

A Remembrance of Wings

Re-call Below the Keystone Bridge

Here where the ice melts
Down to snow &
Covers the primitive earth,
Feathers form.
Angels member wings,
They hover,
We inform their distance from us,
Circle & inscribe their flight
By the words, cherub, butterfly, bee.

The Heart is a Slow Carriage for the Soul….

One day I found my way, waist deep in snow, somewhere in the Great Marsh of Ipswich.
There I chanced upon this scene… and the snow so moved so slow….