Tuesday, January 31, 2012


she called it a tailbone cloud

and i immediately felt
in its soft salmon-coloured waterbones
her knowing
of this world
in the torsional flexing
of her self
as a woman
as a mother
as a lover
the entirety
in the wholeness of all her bodies

Monday, January 30, 2012

holds me

you'd know this feeling
if you dug deep enough into your experience
and thought through the likelihoods and the whereafters
and remembered
an embrace so thorough
that only your glittering
and completed eyes showed
above the surface

"oh be me
be you"

Sunday, January 29, 2012

wild grasses in the snow

we meet
over and over
beyond these
tidy lines and crystals

Saturday, January 28, 2012

you my flower

its sharp-edged dryness is entirely as real as my eyes register
the summer-soft crimson
inside the word
in the idea
of past
in the wholeness
of death
so fully present
in the richness of living

Friday, January 27, 2012

let's hope it's slow

is it more
than a clustering
of flesh and bone

a bringing together
of the lines
of us

you my love
the last name
on this dance card

Thursday, January 26, 2012

my bruvver's birfday

my bruvver david was born on january 26th 1960.

1960 was a busy year but my bruvver was too little to really know what was going on around him.

so here's what was going on in 1960!

here's a pic of when i first really knew him . . . he's the little dude on the left!!!


love from steven

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

this real wish

what are the real wishes
of this plant
this snow

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

finessed slur

so very like air
so very like water
so bringing its cluttered edges
into the moment of this
finessed slur

Monday, January 23, 2012

the stillness

carried along
by the headlong rush
of every moment
i hold one long enough
to be closer -
to feel its glorious enveloping chaos

Sunday, January 22, 2012

their own stories

they listen to their own stories ...
the so very practiced
of this place

Saturday, January 21, 2012

fly from

the blue of a morning

gives way to the red of an evening

Friday, January 20, 2012

little lanterns

i respect and honour
the very brave
ittle lantern lights
that hold away the dark
so very like soft eyes
and so curious
about all the little whisperings
and the wind-hurried goings on
and within
the gnarled branches
of the winter-bare trees

Thursday, January 19, 2012

it tears through

the wind
hovers like fingers tearing

the crisp cut edges off
the paper of a day

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

be the light

have to be the light

i took this picture by pressing a pair of prismatic glasses
(that my cool essence sister ali brought back with her a few years ago from the burning man festival)
against the lens of my camera.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

all the thoughts

in the tangled weave of the skin of this place . . . .

all earth’s memories
are there,
all the thoughts
of heaven, sacred

(italicized words excerpted from "19th march 1823") vasíly zhukóvsky

Monday, January 16, 2012

settled in among

try to find
(let alone follow)
the threaded and woven possibilities
settled in among
the soft clusterings
of a day
of a minute
of a moment

Sunday, January 15, 2012


i know the art of evoking happy moments, and live again my past curled up in your lap.
for what is the good of seeking your languorous beauty elsewhere than in your dear body
and in your so gentle heart?
i know the art of evoking happy moments

baudelaire (from "the balcony")

Saturday, January 14, 2012


this day i ran along a snow-covered trail through woods and marshland
the sun danced soft and warm
through the trees
and so like fingers
traced tender echoes
of the summer
across my face

Friday, January 13, 2012

everything changes

the weather changes

the inner and outer atmospheres

the skin of the sky
the face of the earth

the horizon disappears
behind the imprecise movement
of millions of small crystals

Thursday, January 12, 2012

faithful indeed

two souls drawn together in this incarnation as tiny purple flowers!!!!!
a summer shot . . . i'm swimming through these in a sort of cathartic meditation . . . . .

faithful indeed
is the spirit that remains
the spirit that remembers

such a spirit
over and over
asking the same questions
offering the same possibilities

but with fresh words
softer brushes
more knowing ways

a kindness
grounded in the essence
of goodness

i wrote this while listening to this beautiful piece of music "the spirit that remembers" by the astonishing yorkshireman bill nelson from his new work "realms of light"

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


in the slow stumbling morning that dances in floor bound piles under my dragging feet, i catch a small thought passing by. i am failing to see the shifting of a glorious opportunity as in the mid-winter, the sun rises later, negating the need to further upset my fragile body (upon which i already place so many demands) by getting up exceptionally early to see this daily event! and so mother nature, mother earth, sister sky, brother sun and to all the stars who glitteringly gather just before the unfolding, the unfurling, the grand revelation
of this glorious and wondrous event, a heartfelt thankyou.
you're all beautiful!
really, you are!!!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


as i slept
i could feel her
brush against my face

i dreamt of wings
and small moths

a candle that guttered timorously

i even saw my own eyes
wild and glittering

gone to earth
all filled with scent
and wish
and the wholeness of her

Monday, January 9, 2012

late by myself

claude monet the studio boat

late, by myself, in the boat of myself,
no light and no land anywhere,
cloud cover thick. i try to stay
just above the surface,
yet i'm already under
and living with the ocean.


Sunday, January 8, 2012

gone . . .

in the early evening of a cold january
the house is suddenly so very empty . . . my bedroom window shakes with the wind . . .
its glass is fractured . . . moisture leaks through the fault and freezes
forming a pale film of ice through which i watch a flock of small birds race across the sky
like so many smeared pencil lines . . .
the trees turn inwards . . . in the winter, they keep their thoughts to themselves . . .

Saturday, January 7, 2012

the maps of me

each day
i pull the maps of myself
on like so many clothes

pick a map
i'll be that terrain

keep the map
and memorize those contours
hold me to them

as i'll hold you
to yours

Friday, January 6, 2012

so very flow

you flow
so very far
past the horizon

and the ache of distance
draws the wires of us apart

i stand here in this emptiness
feeling the last breath of this night
pass through me
and turning to return inside
i breathe out the space we contain
to the scattered and far-flung places
we call home

Thursday, January 5, 2012

i got scared

i knew you
and for that reason alone
i couldn't look
directly into your own knowingness

and yet,
from our tiny entireties
we spoke the unspeakable

"i know you"

and began

sharing all that we could
of what we believed had passed since last
we had known each other

and the details were like points
on a map so vast and so detailed
that it passed through and beyond us

and drawing that map about us
with the thoroughness of our eachness

we named it love
from memory

i was listening to a very brief but beautiful piece of music by "clouded staircase"
called "i got scared" when i wrote these words.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

love, in a very cold climate

serendipitous and chance events arrive
because they're intended to

and most especially they arrive because
there's some sort of necessity
about life being filled
with unlikely possibilities


i came across a sweet story that i'd love for you to read and look at.

it's by 23 year-old isabel greenberg.

i sure like this story.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

light falls

light falls
into the cupped hands
of a snow cloud

Monday, January 2, 2012


the most unimaginable complexities
are so simply
and beautifully expressed
in trees

Sunday, January 1, 2012


in this life
we are compelled to live
so thoroughly
and completely

there are
so many wishes
so many hopes
and so many dreams
racing across the skin of us

and as each holds our hands
or kisses our eyelids
or whispers brave words in our ears
they wash across the body of us
so much like a wave

and softening
the edges
of who we are

and given time
we become
an inseparable
and polished singularity

a point
of completion

a place of peace

a locus for the energy
that draws us together

simply because the universe
and so wishes for us to lose
in its love
that it draws us together
into deliquesced forms
and says:

"this is
how it is ...
this is how
it must be ...

leave everything behind,
and become"


with love
as one year ends and another begins


one of my favourite pieces of music - wave created by david sylvian and robert fripp

here are david sylvian's words for this song......

i'm also very fond of this instrumental rendering of wave which appears on the 'camphor' collection