99 beautiful moments: a study

And I will go where the wind blows, even if its just round on circles. I will whistle like the pines when it blows through me. I will quiver when it whips round my limbs. I will foam and crest like the waves when it rides within me, licking the place where the earth meets the sea.

99 beautiful moments: a study

From distant voygages we return to our moorings, the apocolypse dance of the lighthouse behind us. Salt encrusted and sun drenched, our bodies sinewed by sea shores so distant we forgot the language for home. And for the last time we drop anchor. And it rests on the bones of our ancestors. And we remember the celestial beauty lost on functionality. Our hearts no longer seek guidence from the heavens. We are lost no more.

99 beautiful moments: a study

on descent

every wave that crashes must eventually return to the water.

when all is exhaled in that eventual pounding, the truth is formless and enters the abyss.
each foaming crest, each concaved roll, must eventually lick it's descent.

and it is this gesture that erases our footprints, making sand from stone

99 beautiful moments: a study

as the road forks

we emerge unscathed, if a little ruffled
the year drones into long hot days

gratitude shows up at just the right moment,
late at night, drinking whiskey alone.

now all that I have has been divided
some years discarded, some given away

in the echoing undulations of time
each triumph opens onto a vista

cultivating grace in rocky terrains
I am humbled by my gentler kin

on distance

my heart crumbles;
half baked sweetness
coated with roughage
a poor mans pie

post script

For V

the mirror exists only to show us
what we look like

we are not our reflections.
I struggled with yours for so long;

turned it over in my palm
till my nervous twitch

smoothed
that which was sharpened

shined
that which was dulled

this is the only way I know
with stones

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty six

i bait my breath
a small hook
dangling in the open air

my thoughts run wild
bolting past my heart
caught in my throat

99 beauitful moments: a study

Sixty five

The gentle hum
of productivity
drowns out the screaming
deadlines

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty four

the rain caresses
the range in tendrils

clouds draped across the horizon

i slide down them
into the earth

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty three

silence followed me
until I befriended it

only then did I hear it sing

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty two

my heart is a small vessel
and it takes on the mighty
sea with only the wind behind it
embedded in it's waves
navigating by starlight
it knows which way
is north
fills it's sails with the breath
of angels in its search
for a distant sure

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty one

delicate in it's design
grief softly signals changes
giving weight to what passes
so i will feel it lift
and left behind

99 beautiful moments: a study

sixty

tracing the night sky
with techology

mavelling at how
little we
know

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty nine

skins grow elastic
ballooning with each breath
until my very essence fits
inside you
and though I think
I'm floating
I actually drift
across your face

99 beautiful moments: a study

by way of explanation


We forgive because love leaves us no option

because the sky cannot hold the weather

accountable for last years rains

while the sun still shines

I will make haste to dry tears

and shelter when the clouds billow and blow

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty six 

on departing the archipeligo, i invert reality.
as  greens will be awash in reds
the bustle becoming silence
the horizons gushing outwards
until they explode into distance
and the stars reappear 

99 beautiful moments; a study

My heart is every shade of a single hue. The horizon leaps into me. Endlessly layered upon itself. I try to extract myself from it, to draw a line around my form, yet I find myself inesca pable as the foreground leaks into my skin.

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty six

no embers without ashes

we trace the cremated remains
of trees, stark whites against black soil

no smudged sunsets without smoke

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty five

where will this current
lead me, around the corner
to soothing depths, soundless
in their serenity

skating across shallows
and slipstreams gliding
dividing myself between
stones

beneath all these things
sculpting canyons
in my resemblance
looping back into
myself

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty four

you ask me to rise.
i eye off the bar.

testing it's weight
against mine.

breath drawn
like a bow

propelling me
into flight.

99 beuatiful moments: a study

fifty three

moments snatched like stolen lollies and incompleted tax returns.
almost falling before we catch ourselves; this is how we walk.
every stroke includes submergence and coming up for air.

final requests

you ask of me one more thing: will i hold this grief for you?
a small thing, i measure it's weight. watching it as it expands.
it engulfs me; this small thing measured between finger and thumb;
it's elasticity, hypnotic. sands stain my eyes.

i ask myself of myself one more thing: how quickly will it pass.
as long as it takes an angel to dance on a ball of string
that reaches to the moon and back again. as long
as it takes the stars to remember how to twinkle.
as long as i hold onto it. thats how long
it lasts.

99 beautiful moments: a study

fifty two

when we tire of holding it
together we learn
to hold our own

99 beautiful moments: A study

fifty-one

i study the birds
transcending
the sky

in the interim

until it breaks me
i will pen these posts
in the isolation of crowded rooms

i will dance upon the piano
to the music
of broken keys

i will sweep it all up
and drop it again
like a comic routine on loop

i will photograph the stars
stumbling
before they fall

until it breaks me
i will masticate my dreams
whilst i am asleep

until the fine
filimants of ideas
turn into hope

until every sigh
sounds like a siren
until every horizon is a sure

and it will not break me
for i iwill know it
as my own

99 Beautiful moments: A study

fifty

emotional roullette;
my heart
is loaded

99 Beautiful Moments: A study

Fourty Nine

the wind sweeps
tears from the sky

I catch them
on my cheeks

99 beautiful moments

forty eight


a small seed turns inward
so it may know itself
before the world

99 beautiful moments

fourty seven

So many memories
and so much hope leave
no room for regret

toss and turning

after sleepless nights, an new day dawns
and the light is strangely refreshing.
coiled limbs are stretched
like skins cracked
and shed

scales shining
are balanced again

and the fear that gnaws
is toothless
and it's mouth
though wide
is not so bold

we reach into the abyss
to find no monsters
only the unknown

requiem

standing on the edge of the storm, waiting for the rest of my life to appear. this fixation on signposts and trail blazers leaves me counting footsteps and sniffing tracks.

she reminds me of my history. of these things so repeatitious that i forget they even exist until someone points them out. the way i crook my my hand slightly inwards drinking tea, these small cricles of despair that i dance around myself.

i could never be enough for me, or anybody else

post script

then the smoke reveals the golden lining of the clouds. and you remember that the sky is always the exact shade you need it to be. and you take it into you until it is of you. until your heart is light enough to bear.

99 beautiful moments: a study

fourty six

it's been so long
i'd forgotten we
were always this way

99 beautiful moments: a study

fourty five

the last of the rains
inhaled into the earth
fracturing beneath feet

beautiful moments: a study

fourty four

The landscape drifts
fine charcoal filaments fall
Apart between fingers and froth

99 beautiful moments: a study

fourty three

submerged
i mimic my ancestors
at the moment of extinction

99 beautful moments a study

fourty two

we break from the routine to mimic the sky;
the imperceptible undulations
of uncountable refractions
shattering the light
into softness

99 beautiful moments

fourty one

your sweat
smells
like home

99 beautiful moments: a study

fourty

so much skin
containing such little
bones

99 beautiful moments: a study

thirty nine

memory lives
beyond ego
and feat

99 beautiful moments

thirty eight

my heart is the sky
learning gun powders
native tongue

99 beautiful moments: a study

thirty seven

shakily delivered;
a labour
of love

beautiful moments: a study

thirty six

writing the story
i realise
it's complete

beautiful moments: a study

thirty five

you leave
no absence
in my heart

beautiful moments: a study

thirty four

small strands of life;
seperation is essential
for growth

beautiful moments: a study

thirty three

speechless
my mouth
full

beautiful moments: a study

thirty two

we stretch
the night around us
for warmth

beautiful moments: a study

thirty one

love leaves me
no option
but transcendence

beautiful moments: a study

thirty

shiny surfaces
scrubbed bare
and polished

99 beautful moments: a study

twenty nine

in still shallows
the claypans repeat
the sky

beautiful moments: a study

twenty-eight

tangled
in sunshine
and skin

intermission

and then the morning opens its palms
to let the light in, and with it
warmth. the layers worn so long
they are the colour of your skin
peel back and reveal flesh so untouched
you wonder if you ever really sinned

and you are thrown back by it
the simple domestic architecture
the small plants struggling with life
the mundane heroics over looked
in the busyness of your mind.

and you wonder how long you have
been away, your heart cries out
in a different accent and the furniture
looks at you quizzicly, much
like an old friend.

and you wake from your slumber,
completley, the first time
in so very long

beautiful moments: a study

twenty seven

i want you to know
i wrote this
for you

beautiful moments: a study

twenty six


the moon heaving
against the horizon, swelling
my breath

beautiful moments: a study

twenty five

for a girl who loves highways
i have little
skill in driving

beautiful moments: a study

twenty four

finding a thread
on the world wide web
that she can follow

beautiful moments: a study

twenty three

the small movements
of my palm
opening

beautiful moments: a study

twenty two

reptilian, sprawled

we take the heat

inside us

beautiful moments: a study

twenty one

in the dawn
i see the world
emerge

beautiful moments

twenty

despite the biting
cold i am grateful
for the sun

beautiful moments: a study

nineteen

calico, textas, crayons;
drawing on
our strengths

beautiful moments: a study

eighteen

remembering
who we are
with eachother

beautiful moments: a study

seventeen

though i may stumble
i learn more
about the road

beautiful moments: a study

sixteen

the deep orange blush
of the pumpkin grown
from discarded seeds

beautiful moments: a study

fifteen

the sky contains
every colour, texture
shape and form

beautiful moments: a study

fourteen

beyond
every fear
lies hope

beautiful moments: a study

thirteen

taking hours
we weave the past
into a present

beautiful moments: a study

twelve

the house empty
enough for me
to expand

beautiful moments: a study

eleven

technological delays
the message
delivered at the perfect moment

beautiful moments: a study

ten

wood smoke curls

burrows in clothes

follows me into dreaming

Beautiful moments: a study

nine

breaths caught

and released

but never lost

beautiful moments: a study

eight

turning the earth
before planting;
blending old and new

Beautiful moments: a study

seven

chasing the sun
until it frees us

Beautiful moments: a study

six


a form full of hope
the future outlined
in bold

Beautiful moments: a study

five

I

spiders build webs
to capture love
thought lost

II

plates piled high
emptied
heart filled

Beautiful moments: a study

four

unravelled threads;
i am revealed

Beautiful Moments: a study

three

a tiny sprout
reaching for radiance
yet to be defined

beautiful moments: a study

two


as the sun scorches
winter
a pregnant moment
dilates

beautiful moments: a study

one

dirty tub
scrubbed clean
with the last of the light

a crisis of dawning

all my lifelines are offline, drifting in sleep. i settle for solo softenings with deep breaths and gentle reassurances uttered into the mirror.

the past and present swirl with dreamings. i am set adrift in the open sea. my imaginings fill spaces with hope and despair and all that i traverse in between.

i miss the way we tumbled into love
the distance aches

between solitude and lonliness

with a full head and an empty heart i scour the streets for something warm.

amidst the isolation i wonder why these are not my peers. sometimes a dream is so close you can sniff it and yet the belly fails to ache with hunger. i wonder at the life i have carved for myself and fear my mothers curse.

a thousand miles away something calls
barely audible above the waves

clean slate

we sprawl in sun and stretch limbs from earth to sky.

i find lessons in the small plants that grow so imperceptibly. in the clean spaces claimed in solitude. in the endless tetris of was and is.

finding the perfect place is an ongoing process.

the chicken and the egg are part of the same cycle.

there is no distinction between beginning and end.

like an apple, like a mango, like a pear

specifics elude me but i never forget an idea.

all things are birthed from limbo. growing pregnant with possibility. bellys bloated with smoke before fire. i just use ciggerettes as an excuse.

every reflection and recollection reminds me that i'm older than ever before. ripening on windowsills and in cupboards. a decade fluttering behind like a flag airing allegiences on the wind.

on the distance

we hold the sky in our hearts like a childhood memory.we hold the sky in our hearts like a childhood memory.

a background for action and meaning.

when bearings run thin and horizons run steep. we settle for the distance remaining. a kaleidescope of possibility chasing the hours around us.

in the disconnection we find solitude

and that draws us back to ourselves.n the distance

a background for action and meaning.

when bearings run thin and horizons run steep. we settle for the distance remaining. a kaleidescope of possibility chasing the hours around us.

in the disconnection we find solitude

and that draws us back to ourselves.

an early afternoon opiphany
settles me back into my skin

barbecue

lets slaughter the sacred cow...it's eating all the trees

my definitions lie dormant. static codes kicked up in dust. an absence of innovation.

when fear passes the threshold, none of us make it out unscathed. in the corner a kettle boils and i am dancing to it's whistle. like a freight train on amphetamines. i can't stop to carry the load.

all of my sins are absolved as i lick the salt from your skin.

somewhere deeper a small seed sprouts.
i shelter it from the wind.

empirical measures

biology eludes me.

i make peace with stacatto rythems. put my faith in bigger things. my shadow oscillates with the sunlight. i investigate the merits of shade.

emerging from the sludge i convince myself I am amphibious. part water, part soil. a fusion of that which is above and also below.

blinded by the brightness i retrain my eyes to see inside.

as the sky disappears

the day ends in solitude. the world stops spinning momentarily; long enough for me to catch my thoughts as they fall from the pinkening sky.

reflections soft and subtle. dribbling down my chin like proverbial peaches. my teeth chaff the stone.

my heart opens like a small spun string. something delicate in the fast fading light. weaving webs to catch dreams and other trinkets.

something within shifts and slides.

sweeping around tree tops

awash in radiance. curtains open on the clearest skies in months. the blue sweeping only upward. the stunning absence of grey and white. these days sprawl with small completions. afternoons melt into green grass contemplations; the light whisphers sweet nothings as it wraps around protusions and tips of trees. i practice the absence of fear. falling is easy when the sky is bright.

balanced on the wind

the wind balances on the sunlight. days awash in brightlit gardens and sprawling splashes of green. i close my eyes. and the weather takes me back to every other day spent in sweetened introspection. i chart my course between blades of grass and people i have been. contemplate the nature of timelines; staggered sowings and life cycles

nocturnal wonderings leave me out aloud

getting lost in the real world. list slam pavements and some morning i wake up and i'm not sure which version of myself i left in dreaming.

sliding into place like wooden nails; the tightest fit is the one that last the longest. i deep breathe through nocturnal wonderings and wake up still unsure if i've answered the right question.

every gulf is filled with water. between us is an amassing current. i sail small paper boats inscribed with messages across it while you sleep. hoping you can catch a glimpse of me on you're eyelids as you wake.

on memories fast receeding

how to encapsulate all that transpired in that land that seethes history in the absence of memory? the contrast of palletes, always grey scale. the illumination through isolation and companionship. the flavours that burn so bright and so fast. the skyline that swallows the sky. the nights were my dreams were every combustible powder that lit up my face as they exploded into reality. the days where i wandered chest acheing with the distance between all that is familiar to me. the moments where outside turned inside and something dissolved into the shifting shapes of the city. the moments when failure was palpable and transcendence was a guest in my heart. the etching of another into your skin, untracable to everyone except yourself. the grinding revolt of all that you think being silenced in bright lit hotel rooms. the memories you grasp so tightly they disintergrate in the cabin pressure changes on the way home. the moment you strike your homeland again. the feeling we made it through this, and it might be ok.

pre departure preperations

the week spins on it's axis. I check and recheck bags. securing memories, locked in paper, sealed with ink. all that i am contained in folds of cardboard. some so small they could be scraps.

i savour the last of the morning. the new day is about to begin

shift

it even smells different.

the temperature dips as the horizon is swallowed by sprawls of grey. the town seems gentler; man mimicking meteorology. mimicking the sky.

my lists truncated. the slow swelling of cycles. looping up and over and down again.

a small piece of pie is enough to sustain me.

no fault line

adjusting to the changing skylines and the sharpness of the light. these days the desert oscillates; coolness weaving between the warmth. we move in unison; the weather and I.

so many snapshots of this yo yo dancing; my heart feels cataclysmic. fine threads traced to the end of the rainbow. we arch across the sky in search of gold.

on reflection these things are seismic. each shock a sign of deeper shifts. somewhere there is an opening.

i peer gleefully into the abyss

tick tock

the morning is an explosion. in the wreckage i find the safe where i'd hidden myself before the bombs went off.

a forgotten splinter resurfaces through skin. fingernails gouge deeper, resurrecting long buried wounds.

the next big thing

i grow sharp with teh air and the sky.

sashimi slicing through should dos. layered thinly on the pallete. savouring each small victory as it glides from hand to mouth.

late night waxing about the meta and micro leaves us smooth come morning light. i move between these circles until they overlap; tracing impressions of venn diagrams on my skin.

my lover returns past midnight.
my dreams find safety inh his skin.

the day after the one before

the storm subdue. the earth dampened. the day begins with softer hues.

big sky dreaming, hemmed by ranges. my eyes search for a single ghost gum. marker on the horizon cut short by the undulation of ancient ranges. despite the elongated lists my heart stays steady, encased in this garden retreat.

despite the barrage of cataclysm and change my soul finds terra firma. washed up on the shores of reflex and reflection, i survey the terrain. this oasis is not an island but an extension of all that has come before.

there are no disconnections, no loose links in the chain. we can only understand ourselves in reverse. i capture these moments in pockets between muscle and bone.

despite my ruminations i am grateful for all that has transpired.

life line

thoughts open to softest downpour. everything is washed clean.

my eyes tire of these green horizons. diasporic longing for red sand and clear skies. the paradox of wanting the rare to retain it's distant shimmer.

cracks turn to gaping chasms depite shovelloads of fertile soil and conversation. that which cures can also kill. and it's still early days....

i retreat. seek self protection.
the life line lays limp in the dust

each smaller than the one before

overwhelemed by big picture framing I find peace in the procession of small things.

that which was settles into the dust. that which is rises up from the water. these basic experiments in physics and focus must be repeated over and over again.

my heart yearns for it; the small peices of pie left like lights on a runway, illuminating the path to the sky. a steady remembrance like small household vigil; a quiet light lit in windows at night.

i am slowly working my way through these lists.
it is all that my heart can withstand.

a soft place

peice by peice things find their right place. that which was turbulent finds equilibrium. my heart slows to a swagger. my compass corrects itself. the squall returns to the sea.

all things have their time. hands meeting and parting. small measurements of what has passed.

i am finding that soft place, where things become simple. where my heart need not worry for a while.

on waves and shallows

i duck my head and allow the waves to wash over me.

emerging from the fog of days spent with breath held, mind racing through the tick tock of slumber. these old wounds resurface as scabs picked and peeled. i am fearful of repeatitions and regressions.

but the simple sunlight of clear sky eyes sweep over me just the same. feet first i slide into my subconcious and allow myself to drift downstream. carrying with me all that is not washed away; smooth skin and shining desire

we draw maps to describe the unfathomable.
in this moment we are undefinable.

full

we find silence in the first slender arc of gold. breathes held in it's steady ascent. the simple opulance of reflection shimmering through the atmosphere.

you said: it's because we're spinning so fast. and we don't even feel it.
some miracles are so large that we overlook them.

we sat for a long time on that ridge. painting dreams against the night sky. me scrawling at the dirt, trying to capture the outline of this moment so i wouldn't forget it.

inside

I

untangling the threads i try to decipher exactly where our wires got crossed.

II
the heat drives us inwards. fanning ourselves lest flames appear. slipping meaning between the inhalations and exhalations of a distant star.

III

tea is a tonic for all things.
my emergent self reappears

as it goes by

these days of sun drawn long like bows. aimed at parched earth and soaked skin.

in cool comfort, entwined in cotton sheets. outlines retraced and boundries dissolving. i am confronted with the best and worst versions of myself. suspended between past and future; the present becomes a gift.

these vunerable places. entangled in memories and dreamings and soft sighs and shallow breaths. i imbibe all of my ambitions. slowly sip the certain change and remind myself that all things shift. sometimes impercetibly, like the wearing down of mountain to sand.

sifting

bathed in the skies of my childhood i revist old ground, sift through the remains of innocence. find something precious amidst the rubble.

redemption is a sweet sip and a small rush. a sudden current that signals the end of this and the beginning of that. i reclain small histories, greeting each one by name. content in the knowledge that they can't hurt me anymore.

cleansed

the year starts by washing the town.

sudden swelling of water across streets and pavements. we barely make it back to our beds. sparkling in the soft light of the first day of the next marking. time neatly cordened demarcating then and now.

i go through all the cycles, ride waves in solitude. stircrazy with waiting for the beginning to transpire.

wandering across wide open spaces and saltwater. my dreaming proficent in thirsting and conjuring and longing and such.