I could paint this picture
it is my life
that dark purple in between the trees
that colour didn’t exist
until I saw me
in a rage so heavy I couldn’t lift
the light in front of my eyes
it is my life
that dark purple bleeds
between my knees, it claims all space
and light
there is no light
I rest here in what has become
my dark and shitty compost
my new life
this child of light
can see the shadow in you
in perfect symmetry
and this child of light
can see when you indulge
that shadow
because the play distorts
the smoothness
turns slippery
and in a fraction of a second
he falls into your attention
and you become light
As he is
The stones moved into my eyes
I stared and stared
until I stared back at myself
a mixture of hazel and confusion
iris darkly rimmed
like a winter moon
pupil darkly large
learning
I stared and stared
into a night’s harbour
folded with hills
and one lamp sprang forth
outing all the shadows, one lamp
darkness could not claim
an iris shining
what gleamed around my face
what golden light circled me
what radiance filled me
my form super-imposed
light sculpting light
my mirage taking form
into the tricks of night
In the dust of his words, I feel
I feel churnings of sadness
gallop through my body
the ache of dry land.
I feel myself stand up
tired muscles from holding
yesterday together.
I feel … a wheel …
strong, wooden
spokes
reaching out
like they define an outer space
turning and experiencing
the ground, the sky
life
is ever-changing.
In his dust I feel it all.
I feel the earth and the sky separate
I feel the earth roll backwards
I feel the open earth
inviting the light in
I feel something warm and unyielding –
resting quietly
fairly unnoticed
a still point
a wheel turning the experience
I feel a finger hot as irons
point to my heart –
don’t let this close! she demands
1. a place of safety (n)
like singing in the dark
like tree flowers on the forest floor
signaling, in the chain of life
it’s time
to mate
a safe haven when podocarps
(rimu, kahikatea, miro, mataī, tōtara)
fruit
feeding many birds
and the kakapo wait
until the fruit arrive
and the kaka and the kereru follow
the berries
that follow the flowers
that ripen like blue pollen
fuchsia
2. offering protection (v)
to one who nests close to the ground
for their young to clamber
down –
time
and space needed to find their wings
to one who freezes in the blind spot
of a predator’s eye
but dies on the deathmill
because of their smell
to songs, sung to trees, or to nothing or to no one
3. a discernable quality of peace (n)
amorphous in form
be ing in sects in sun li ght;dinner
and honey-coated
an escapable sigh
this valley is my sanctuary, I come here often
4. to make sacred (v)
to watch perception change
and to make notes like a botanist
to notice birds are louder
than footsteps
to bend
under a single thread of spider
and
to-not-break-the-invisible-lines
to smell
deeply
without words like rich or poor
5. to shine (v)
as natural light
emerging in the dank of life, an ecological
splitting
of fabric when something
dies
like supple-jack stitching the forest together
and simultaneously ripping the
seams
a part
when colossal death falls to the ground, and
new light comes
in the middle of a bay
a crescent moon beach, Isis
with rainbow waves spraying
from her breasts
sings life (harmony)
pouring
affirming
praise
like wisdom gained
and entrusted to the
deepest heart, the deepest
crystal seeking light
waves in long stretches
discover her inner spring
Isis is in every dancing wave
