SUMMER RAIN : 1 - 4

1.
Cherry and plum
apparently asleep -
what's the point?
in this
brilliant universe.

2.
Gentleness
wherever
one looks
suddenly
there is silence.

3.
Patterns
of raindrops
on this
particular garden
touching everything.

4.
An unintelligible
downpour -
God will not
intercede
when nothing
is withheld.

*

(Golden GOJI Hermitage - 17.08.2012)

*

ONE MISTY, MOISTY MORNING, WHEN CLOUDY WAS THE WEATHER....

Olde English folk-songs notwithstanding, i caught my favourite bus - X53 - to Bridport, to surprise my friend, Jon Scott, at "The Chapel in the Garden", with a peanut-butter sandwich - all organic, of course!!The new community/spiritual initiative here, in the old Unitarian Chapel, is a wonderful opportunity, in these days of dogma and conformity, to make a real difference in peoples lives - including ourselves/myself etc. As Thich Nhat Hanh so often expresses the truth, that = "my" happiness is dependent on "your" happiness. For if "you" are unhappy, it will affect "me". And the ripples go on and on, from self to family, from family to community...on and on and on...

*

Bridport a link in INDRAS NET. We are all connected. My own soft flesh, the very body of my mother, as i was musing, the other day. And this continuity/connection was/is a comfort. What is it that is born? What is it that dies?.....

*



THERE'S A PLUM TREE IN THE GARDEN...

PLUM

TREE

IN

THE

WEST

HAS

NOTHING

TO

PROVE

*

Morning meditations

05.00 - 06.00

We are "cooking" our life.

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ABBOTSBURY AMBLE - sunday 12 august 2012

Chesil Beach another day! Ended Abbotsbury amble abruptly when, finding myself at Ilchester Arms bus stop, in time for the hourly bus service - X53, decided to return to Weymouth on impulse,Glastonbury bottled water undrunk. Glastonbuury Tor and St. Catherine's connection appealed to me. And so did some very pink,cloudy cyder in the Village Store. NEXT TIME !!!

*  *  *  *  *

RED IS NOT A COLOUR IN THE VOCABULARY OF THE MOON. (1984)

Original broadside from Salt-Works Press

Mississippi 1984

*

Brambles at my legs.

Tore my skin.

The water turned red.

A weeping-willow by the water.

I turned in the waters.

I didn't want to kiss Jennifer.

Chasing through the brambles.

A cold-sore on her lip.

I didn't want to catch it.

There were other girls.

My mother grieved at my legs.

The water should have been silver.

My mother grieved at the waters turning red.'

She got no answers.

No time to pull-up my falling socks.

My fall from grace.

My mother like Isis.

Silver tears for my bath-water that turned red.

Tears for the Nile.

Oh Egypt.

Did i love Egypt ?

Too young to remember.

My mother had a silver violin.

She never played it.

I bathed in the waters of her womb.

I germinated.

A pearl i was.

The tide turned.

Others inveigled me.

The stars in their courses.

Monday.

A crescent moon.

Nearly new.

Dreamy and drowsy.

They were tender those girls.

Cheeks as soft as mushrooms.

I wouldn't kiss Jennifer on the mouth.

A cold-sore.

A crab it was.

I am as fragile as glass.

I wash in the waters' ebb and flow.

Towards evening the lilies' petals close.

My mother embroiders a nightingale.

Fish in the pond.

Brambles at my legs.

They were feline those girls.

They had not yet breasts.

Just a kiss.

The boys had it otherwise.

Telling tales.

My mother's face went red.

Isis weeping into the waters of the Nile.

A veritable fountain.

A water-fall.

The girls in the waters.

Little minnows.

I went under.

*

(Thornhill,Southampton - 1984)

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Here Amongst Clouds

05.00 hrs - Golden GOJI Hermitage

*

*

*

 

*

*

Meteor-showers in my head

this week-end 

3 flashes of lightning

momentarily brightened the sky

&

 there were dull rumblings.

*  *  *





to newton's cove via lake and harbour...

*

on my way home, the sun came up...

05.30 - 05.55 hrs

saturday 11th august 2012

enjoyed the warm breezes.

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