Tag Archives: light

that dark purple (7 Dec 2011)

24 Jan

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


child of light (28 Feb 2011)

8 Mar

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

stones (5 Feb 2011)

23 Feb

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

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

the wheel (16 Nov 2010)

14 Feb

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

reaching out
like they define an outer space

turning and experiencing
the ground, the sky
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

digging (16 Nov 2010)

14 Feb

Yesterday I thought peace
lay at a depth that took
unceasing labour
to unfold

like a flower pealing back
a bulb finding light
a snake losing it’s skin

dying into a deeper shade of myself

When I went digging yesterday
I kept on uncovering
I kept on uncovering

I kept on uncovering

s•anc•tu•ar••y (Oct 2010)

14 Nov

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)

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

2. offering protection (v)

to one who nests close to the ground
for their young to clamber
down –
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

to smell
without words like rich or poor

5. to shine (v)

as natural light

emerging in the dank of life, an ecological
of fabric when something
like supple-jack stitching the forest together
and simultaneously ripping the
a part
when colossal death falls to the ground, and
new light comes

the priestess (27 July 2007)

4 Aug

in the middle of a bay
a crescent moon beach, Isis
with rainbow waves spraying

from her breasts
sings life (harmony)

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

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