April 28, 2017


i have gathered the bones
of what was lost
and buried them, for safe-keeping
i have placed a bell
in a high place above
to ring their changes
i have sung their song
and danced their dance
in notes that burn and steps that cut
like fire, like knives
i live to give
voice to the silenced
and life to the dead
i live to make a pattern of bones
and stones and song
that lingers stinging in the throat
i carve runes
in the wise bark of trees
and feed them with my blood
i tread the patterns of stars
into the soil with my human feet
what is it i seek
with a burning in my belly
to bring to birth-
what is it i work to bring to life
from the death about me-
what cobwebbed totem
claims me in dreams-
is what was lost
reclaimed, redeemed,
in this rough-shod, beaky love?

midwifing the future

lately there has been much discussion about eco-despair, and the unavoidable degradation of everything, and the urgency of action to fight-...