Friday 7 October 2016


An unusual poem this post.
I shall leave you to read it for yourselves.
For Ollie

In the morning there was loss.
He had hoped it would be different,
that the luminous green coral
which had formed baroque knots
on his ceiling the night before,
would still be there...

It was not. 

The scales had fallen on to his eyes once more.
The shamanic pattern that had overlaid his vision
and granted him glimpses of a truth
so much older than human time had fled.
There had been communion then,
there would be again.
I think we are all connected by the land we live on to the changing season's, but we have forgotten to listen as they ancestors once listened. This inability to hear has taken us out of step with the land.
Here is a very rare video of Jaki Whitren from 1973. This was a small hit. I had the LP. She only made the one. What a voice!

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