sunday morning

i woke to find infinity
had taken the space
below my ribs where
sometimes the world waits
with words like you and i.
rolling my eyes inwards
i could see vast
oceans of starscapes
above and below
the silent horizon.
i lay still, steady breathing
that sweet salt sea
so as not to spill the ocean
flooding my veins
with transient magic of starlight
on deep water,
while outside my window
the sun rose
turning darkness
to leaf and tree.

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new moon beautiful

stretching this space
here between ribs,
expanding the horizon
with breath –
i can wait
while the world turns
and turns again.
i can wear this skin
inside out
in the rain
folding and
unfolding my love
pushed paper thin
in the rough bark
of trees
while the sun
rises and falls
like the breath
of an animal
vast and warm.
i am no less
than the dark
between stars
my feet have tasted this –
i can wait.

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i carried the dust of that place
on my feet, walked it here
with thanks for the journey
and stood long-shadowed
in the dew wet grass.
stood while the walking
settled to stillness
and the trees, popping
bergwind seeds, cackled
here – you are home,
you are home.


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would it matter
if i let me
run your hands
along my fault lines
let them find
that i exist
in breath skin, flesh and bone
because i know
you would take your shoes off
everyday to hear the sun rise
and is it enough
to live this world
knowing there’s a holy mountain
is it enough to live its shadow
and never seek its heights.
would it matter if i let me
run your words along my spine.
would we turn to matter
if i let me.

night vision

it is a long night drive
breath misting windows
in hard flung rain
headlights close in
illuminating only what i need
this bend
this tree
this cliff
this loose pebbled road edge
that drops into ravine
this bushbuck on light feet
leaving her spoor in the slip.
it is a long night drive
to fetch the girl child
to see the owl perched
on the yield sign
to yield to the soft darkness
of night.


the egrets

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of course they would come
holding bits of night
in dark shadows under white wings
that whisper low along the road
sighing across the rooftops.
they will find the moon before it sets.
beyond the hilled horizon
where it has already plunged
orange and silent behind the trees,
they will find the moon beyond these hills
where vast ocean horizons