it is autumn and the sun
has risen golden on our
faces morning cool,
by noon lilies will sigh
with breathless heat.
exuberant now
the forest calls forth
let us live
let us live
let us live

rush is
salt wind
fresh in the face,
the sound of waves
pulling on pebble beach.
it is cool water
on warm skin
and the taste of words
unsolicited in the morning.

in every moment
that we live
we die and are born again
cell by cell –
skin that touched, knew
the summer river
does not live to taste
this mist rain wind
blood that flows
generation to generation
hardly outlives the silkworm.

breakfast was slow
poached egg and greens
the day too set in its ways
for rushing.

among the frail
fingertips of the elder
small birds are noisily
protesting the presence
of snake
relentlessly storming
flicker tongue close
to death.
boomslang moves off,
there is no time for apathy
among the living.

perhaps, my love
it would have been wiser
to rush in,
angels have no fear.
skin that ached for you
might live no more
and this tongue tastes
the world anew.

it is not that
don’t wake some mornings
brace strong arms
against the day
and grumble
about the weather.

cannot touch us
stretched forest vine
and reaching for light.

and mosquitoes
living faster than thought
continue to dine
on my blood made
new this morning

there is an urgency
to this light
flame of fern and moss
and fallen leaf
where arms snaking sinuous
as trees along the path
follow a sound that might
be forest or beat of blood
in my ears
feet learn fast
the point and flex
of toe and heel
new grown in old shoes.

i do not remember being 17
unbuckling my seat-belt and
sliding to sit in the space between seats
before impact,
yet when the cars stopped spinning and grinding
in their endless arc of nowness
and the the where i should have been
was folded under crush car metal
it all went quiet.
i do remember we were rushing
i do remember we lived.

rushing long threads through the night
spider wrote the forest in silver
making the connections for me
in case i did not tie it all together myself.

what if
there is no rush
what if this life
is just one pulse
a momentary
heartbeat of the infinite.
no more
or less precious
than that which
pulsed before or after.

night comes
as it does
to these hills
yields us
to its mysteries
of darkness and shadow
it neither waits
nor cares
for our doing.


if an electron
lives forever
and beyond bone and blood
we speak elemental
then rush
is no more than the sound
of the wind
for we all hold
infinity at our core


WhatsApp Image 2018-03-30 at 07.08.14

One thought on “rush

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