Saturday, 22 September 2018

2nd September 2018

Clare's writing


Slow trudge feel
A slow walk
Of three
Same slow
Rhythm
Through gold flowers
To whistle tress
Ceremonious
Integral
Loved ones in air and earth
Seeing their own worlds
Being their own worlds
Sharing the air and earth
Time and memory
Hell and heaven

Peace






Friday, 13 July 2018

8th July 18

Clare's 60th

Based on compound words from Donna Caraway’s Staying With The Trouble

Re-membering
Sticky -threading
Side-winding
Think-with
Not-yet-hatched
Being-with
Re-seeding

There were some others…

3 together moving
Co-evolving
Flourishing-with
Kin-making

Writing

Oak guardian
Re-seed me
Re-fertilize
Seeds be around me
Under each foot as I step
The world flows up and out
Butterfly joys
Magpie joy
Goldfinch skim
leaves
Sun re-seed me
Re-plenish
Re-seed me with letting go
Re-seed me so I gernminate
Re-seed me so I blossom
Re-seed us though hope is low
Re-seeding let things flow













3rd June 18

A Dillette..


Saturday, 21 April 2018

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

January 7th 2018

whose trail Tight- rope wate-r sod oak leaf on spread thistle point its own fairytale prick to sleep to dissolve to

Swirl swirl of mud in upraised leaf water swirl of ash vapour inside and outside body swirl and moisture folding in and under dissolve and form and dissolve

bare hedge opening

walk wide legged, soft footed ground sogging at each step boot, foot, rooting upwards my legs allow the feet to go mud descent dry hooked hawthorn wind blown off course stand firm and low allow mud slippage head caught, hand caught gather-puddles

Trees torn off branches take large ones and untangle hook them on body twice one falls a piece stays like hair other falls on top a graceful shaping of lines a coupling

the loose part some forgotten memories I hang on living low branch to be in air

the next broken branch I hook it hangs the last larger one I push up through empty branches till it sticks

 move away three hanging limbs

 then the large one falls to earth as winded trees do not meant to stay or try to mend the broken branches so many bits to break off what is left the autumn tree enjoying the sun and deep down replenishing its roots for spring

 Place a wind fallen branch on each wooden fence post balanced in the middle so they sway building my own trees my inability to recreate nature I imitate it Mending? making with broken bits man -tampered wind -witched Hand -gathered How to repair I build a row of trees from broken pieces probably the only way in this world’s story

 dead vines seem fragile these entanglements are strong and ungiving they want to hold on