How wise

I’ve certainly known worse..but all you want right nowis to get right away from them,live your own life, makeyour own mistakes.. andhalf of you is looking forward todoing just that, andhalf of you’s not sure..OK so far? I’m trying to be fair…now here are some sketches ofwhat life may hold:there’s the random, no-plan plan –life…

where everything, all that one knows of lifemust be surrendered, in the serviceof a brighter light, a brighter life…Only those who apprehend the soulin all her glory, must submitwhen time calls time, and there descendsthat total darkness of the mindwhich wipes out any thought of thingscreated; any sense of former life;any creature that might sayI’ve…

of West Hamateurshas sacked Pardewa scholarly note herepardew is old norman Frenchfor by God, as might appearin some Shakespeare play,‘pardew, wench, thou hast a pairof foaming jugs, I warrant…’or in a later century of faithby God comes victory to the worthyor on the terraces,by God it’s time he was sackedwhile Curbishley soundsmore like a 19th…

beyond actiontheir spirit, freed,roamed without movementin freedomthrough the worldwhisperingof rest,of freedom,of words,of silencesinging, singing

as worthwhile in our life –these, we share with those who’ve gone before..what else more worth the sharing?and share, more closely than we know to seek:those whose ‘loss’ to us we mourn –especially those so recently thought ‘lost’ to us –they are the ones still closest to us:they delight to hear from us, chatting in…

Pain. Feel the pain.Go to the centre of it.In the centre, a flame.A cool, warm, steady, white, white flameso white, thatit is more light than white.Cool as detachment.Warm as love.Bright as enlightenment;burning the unnecessary.The flame of healing,as old as the world.As old as olive trees and oil and sacred lamps,as old as wisdom.In the flame,…

real leatherpunchbagon a hefty, weightednon-shift standand with a substantialrecoilinscribed in fine gold lettering‘I am sent to try you’that deals withthe humanand the divineaspectstogether(For Tara)

that tough yet choosy herb,giving of itself;remembrance, perhaps, for Northern Europeans,of that package tour to Crete:rising early, that first morning,the body clock not quite adjusted,the sun already warming mountain-sidesbefore it reaches down into the valley;already, the intoxicating scent of wild herbsrolling slowly down the hillside, telling you,this, this, could be paradise..below you, blue morning seabeyond…

and heard a forest sigh in painin Amazon’s deep land.

Part horse, with shaggy goatlike hooves,and lion’s tail; and on heraldic shieldsits glorious spiralled horn so fitly crownedwith lilied coronet, marking royal intelligence;proud in its humility and gentle in its strength,sometimes rearing up, and sometimes bowing low.Why then this form?Forgotten, then, the ancient reasoning, or onlypart remembered: that the Creator gave to mandominion and tender…

the brain a mass of wriggly worms,the mind an old tin can..The first word presents the semiotic questionof authorial authority:is this a real person recountinga ‘real’ dream, insofar asdreams are ‘real’, and thuspresenting the authority of detached observation(insofar as accepted structures of waking,sleeping, dreaming, etc., are assumed,thus ‘fictitious’ in an absolute sense)or, is this a…

find in their hearts, agreewith what the philosophers have discoveredor reasoned to be true?The poet answeredYes, and Noand between the twois a place, a space, wherethe mouth is silent,the pen hovers poised above the paper,the eyes sparkle,the heart leaps and rejoices,and the mind soars on journeysbeyond anything that was known beforeand lives experiences never before…