It's the invisibility of space
that makes it so appealing to the eyes.
It's what we cannot hear that makes each sound
a prized possession
and a silence so profound,
for silence too is spatial
and space a place for resonance.
We long for both,
their attributes and shape,
the way they fold around us and become
one gown to hide our nakedness.
We wear it like a shroud.
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...