A message in a bottle…

To wait for three days.

A promise, to send

me a message.

I went back to my corner

to make a harbour in a raging sea

where I could admire

the view. 

thursday 8th January 2009

and so we make a poem of what cannot be said
- Pina Bausch

there is a room 
in it are folds and curves and dark places
it is deeper than it first appears
it creaks
it cannot be touched but the texture of it is tangible
the skin of it is warm, molten heavy
and at the same moment so cold in some small way 
that makes it both cavernous and metal sheened
wings, weathering.

it is a film of a moment that cannot be held
but can be witnessed in the palm of a hand (if you hold the one)
it is denser, weightless and not of this world but feet folded in 
earth and sky and water
breath floods in upon the other
there was no thing before or after it
nothing tick tocks.

never has there been a shade
more dear and lovely or more gentle.

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