a white desire

growing wild and welcomed in my back garden

queen-anne’s lace

her body is not so white as

anemony petals nor so smooth—nor

so remote a thing. it is a field

of the wild carrot taking

the field by force; the grass

does not raise above it.

here is no question of whiteness,

white as can be, with a purple mole

at the center of each flower.

each flower is a hand’s span

of her whiteness. wherever

his hand has lain there is

a tiny purple blemish. each part

is a blossom under his touch

to which the fibres of her being

stem one by one, each to its end,

until the whole field is a

white desire, empty, a single stem,

a cluster, flower by flower,

a pious wish to whiteness gone over—

or not

william carlos williams

cloud fish

cloud fish

jumps clear

of the sea

up in the sky

pan playing a reed flute

or a cloud

huffing the biggest blunt ever

waiting for the rain

when i saw these leafless trees

and these billowing evening clouds

i was brought to think of people

reaching

for rain

perhaps a warm, gentle rain

perhaps a kind cooling rain

or perhaps they were wishing

for the simple touch

of a bead of water

tumbling

softly

from branch to branch

earthwards

onto their bodies

all that you give

i love music with colour.

music with colour - well it's about the feeling that comes from inside

that indescribable element

that some music carries when it is more than itself.

the cinematic orchestra can do this.

here they are with fontella bass.

sweet music and a sweet day to you all!

small red beacon

the far and between

distances

crossed

star crossed

well they beckon like beacons

misty

blurred

a space of dying

in-between me and them

a space of becoming

in-between me and them

and at the end

a light

a coloured light

posted on a promontory

as much a warning

as a place of entry

a warm reminder

this awaits you all

this begins

where you end

this is the ending

of your beginning

the long cold rainy day remembering

on this memory

of a rainy day

when all the powers

that be

and have been created

are hovering side-by-side

by side

in my remembering

and there's so little to redeem

the deep-seated hopelessness

no hope for changing

the feeling

of cold within

and without

my body

i find solace and release

in the music of riceboy sleeps

as it reminds me

of the moment

of promise

contained

within each raindrop

stokkseyri

the great loom

the keen edge

the sharpened edge

wires carrying clouds of information

clouds carrying threads of rain

dancing against each other

the weft and warp

of the great loom

i'm leaving again for a week or so.

a family vacation to prince edward island on canada's east coast!

i'll be bringing back fresh memories, fresh stories and fresh photographs.

see you.

steven

golden descriptors

each wordless

wind waving existence

its own golden descriptor

a waystation

on the journey

from earth to animal

and back again

cler achel

some music

i feel in my head

some in my tummy

some in my chest

and some in my hips

this piece - cler achel -

carries its presence in all four

from tinariwen who were also featured last month right here

the words:

cler achel

jklerh achel udwer ehadh

i spent the day and still the following night,

jklerh achel udwer ehadh

I spent the day and still the following night,

lerh azaman iglaerh

i spent a whole day travelling

lerh azaman iglaerh

i spent a whole day travelling

tigila mela tigilat har takanarh am nounou

you've gone mila you've already gone and i've plunged deeper into my dreams

anizdjoum djerh atat diktoh ihal falas oulhin

whatever my thoughts, she occupies them all and my heart cries out still.

chorus

kay ebedhoun de amarhanak erhik tarhet

it's a time that separates the beloved from those they love

warhak dakhim sel inizdjam ed tid tekted

and when you think of them, painful obsessive thoughts are all that come.

landlocked

someone

dreamt of you

saw you

in a magazine

brought you home

and in their hands

you cut the waves

tasted the spray

not knowing

that really truly

your sculpted pure form

would someday become

a problem

for someone cutting

their grass

~

sometimes your body drags you down.

holds you back.

barry flew away from his yesterday.

thanks for all that you brought into this world buddy!

steven

dexter, ny

it was the hopeful

hopelessness in their eyes

that stayed with me

'just passing through'

i answered

as they nursed cold drafts

these three -

him paunchy and too loud

her rough-edged and sadly happy

and the barkeep

holding on too tightly to the waist of a glass of ice-water

(if you let her go she's gone)

were too happy as i asked

if i could use their washroom

and fill my bottle with water

and i wanted to stay

to show them a good time

but the arrogance of that thought

caught me squarely

as i washed my face

in their bathroom

and saw my eyes

looking back at me

in the tarnished mirror

spotted with the soapy

water splashings

of patrons long gone

and never to return

knowing i'd never return

i walked past the bar

gave soft-voiced thanks

holding the door handle

to make sure the door shut quietly behind me

and i listened to their voices echoing in my head

as i walked past the boarded up shops

and peeling paint houses

crossed the crumbling road

and biked out of town

beast of burden

i'm feeling lazy today,

listening to some big city in the summer jazz

from back in the day when the two were intertwined,

told stories about each other

and were all over the grey scale

in a colourful sort of way.

this is music to listen to

while you're sitting back in a big old chair

with your feet on the window-ledge

or leaning out the window

with the tunes as a soundtrack

for the stories unfolding below.

near at hand - lemonade, beer from the fridge perhaps,

or a jug of californian wine.

donald byrd (t), mobley (ts), best (vib), burrrell (g), hancock (p), warren (b), humphries (d), perkinson (vcl).

weave little webs to catch one tiny fly

some weave careful webs

some form clouds

we all weave webs to catch one tiny fly

don't sleep

a sleepy green

curving morning

sweeping 'round the field

of awareness

yuo could stop and watch

or head off

into the fog

you see . . .

the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

don't go back to sleep.

you must ask for what you really want.

don't go back to sleep.

people are going back and forth across the doorsill

where the two worlds touch.

the door is round and open.

don't go back to sleep.

from "essential rumi" translated by coleman barks

the land of evermore neverwas

looking across the soft morning fields

words

get lost in the blur

of waking

and seeing in a day

across the wildplants

and the distant fogbound trees

that float in shades of grey

beyond which lies

the land of evermore neverwas

the green cathedral

the entrance to the woods

i love these three wise trees

and always say hello when i pass them

on my way

deeper into the woods

and i love when i enter the deep space which feels like a green cathedral

even the air is green

the fence line

fence lines divide

separate

i like to know all sides to a story

so i cross the line

because it is very worth it

the foggy fields

waking early on a foggy morning.

light floats inside each droplet.

everything holds its own patina of moisture.

come on, let's follow this path.

once past its welcoming opening, you enter the foggy fields.

the brighter edges of birdsong are softened in the cool wet air

the crows welcoming calls lose their raspy edge

colours are gentler

thoughts are kinder

subtle tesselations

the fencewire's form

a dance of sorts

no longer the perfect

repetition

of taut diamonds

it finds itself moving

in the subtle tesselations

of nature's contours

in the floating world

in the simple smear

of night-time clouds on water

pink visions arrive

each day

i come here

each day

to reclaim

and then create

a space

a place where you and i can think about something

of the human condition as i understand it

i haven't been sent by anyone or anything

but i do feel an imperative

a sort of sense of purpose that has less

to do with telling you stories

about my daily experience

as much as it has

to do with saying

that this is one way of knowing

and perhaps being

in relation to this extraordinary place

outside of the constraints of time

sometimes outside of the constraints of place

a very big thankyou to sid smith for pointing me in the direction of this music.

angels and shadows

angels and shadows

walk down sky street

holding hands

"sing me a song"

"tell me a story"

"tell me no lies"

i wish for wonder

i pull the curtains

i draw them shut

hold out the dark sky

no stars tonight

morning comes

all shy and bright

little girl eyes

soft and clear

a

wish

for wonder

perhaps on such a day

the morning

emerges

from behind

curtain clouds

i'm lost inside a tiny story.

listen to your voice as you

read it out loud . . . .

a heavenly woman's imprisoned in the palace at penglai hill,

all are silent as she sleeps by day in the painted hall.

her glossy hair is spread like a cloud on the pillow,

her embroidered clothes bear a wondrous fragrance.

i secretly come and slide the pearl lock back,

she's startled from her dream behind the silver screen.

her smiling face is overflowing with bliss,

we gaze at each other with unbounded love.

li yu

breathe out

and let the evening

pull the curtains closed

iceland, eyjafjallajökull

in peaceful times . . . .

here is a beautiful film (made by sean steigemeier) of the icelandic volcano that has brought the realization back into the travelling world that we really do borrow air space when it's available and sometimes - well it simply is already occupied by nature!

the film features the music of one of my favourite musicians - jonsi.

go here!

slow passage

a blue evening over the grande briere marsh ferdinand loyen du puigaudeau

in the early evening

a rich solitude

the light gurgling of water

against our hulls

signals another day passing

briere la nuit ferdinand loyen du puigaudeau