Sensitive souvenir

Through painted eyes I see your heart.
Overflowing, submerged in milk and honey.
In that kiss, I feel the tenderness.
Which my soul has yearned for.
But like a pebble in my shoe.
A reminder remains.
That stain on my heart will never fade.
And those mistakes I will keep in the back of mind.

Baptised by you

That endless world they talk of.
A Drowned world.
It opened in my heart when the starry waves washed inside.
When you looked at me.
With that light of god in your eyes.
And in that moment, like that pebble in your hand.
You grasped at the infinite.
You consumed my soul.
And we would remain forever bound.
Like that pebble in the ferocious stream.
Washed endlessly by the cosmic current.
Until clean.

Take a bow

Nothing to fear, but the beauty unleashed.
As those velvet eyes unfurl for the world to shiver.
This collapse of an age, of a time now expired.
Blown into the dust of yesterday.
How heavy it must sit. The weight of youth.
Trapped in a moment, encased in expectations.
Those lips, sudden to crack like an earthquake.
The tuneful words scratch, like a raven’s song.
Beneath this magnitude, sits the one I love.
Grasping silently for escape.
I promise to take you away.
From it all.
From here.

Nuclear

Empty and scorched. Your fingerprints all around me.
The metal heart buckles as it burns.
A hollowed out feeling.
A holocaust beginning.
That day you left, the skies got dark.
Which substance feeds this pain?
Gasoline for despair, welled in the pit of truth.
Nuclear burns and white light.
The spreading pain of a headache that never fades.
Brought on by crying deep into the night.
The day masked in the dark. A perpetual darkness.
Here, nothing grows.
Inside the husk, no flowers will bloom again.
This skin is toxic.
This mind now rotten.
And empty shade of loss.

The Majesty of mystery

Stolen time which seeps out of blackness.
Returned like pearls to the sea.
All we know, we have forgotten.
Clearing the realms for wonders to birth.
We close our eyes and catch the breath that escapes.
The Sustaining mist of God.
As this mind coughs up havoc, with its mystery of the unknown.
That pulls with a gravity to the dark and tragic.
God cradles us in feathery hope.
Kissing promise once more into our blood.
Gravitating away from grief.
Running water of certainty in our blood.
For we never truly know what exists.
Beyond the curtain of our eyelids.

Who let in the rain?

Underneath that crystal water
Of crushed stars and dreams.
Dwelling like a memory that won’t die.
Lies a soul.
Frayed and tattered.
Filled with thoughts of eucalyptus leaves and saffron.
Tide up in heartstrings and self-made knots.
Tackling the torrents soundlessly.
To drown silently in a rising tide.
This was their gift to you.
Keeping the truth and the pain out of your eyes.
Packing soot and coal into the sockets.
Trembling inside and yet still.
Like a sewn up teddy bear.
All glass eyed reflective.
Placid.
Who let that rain in, to wash the hope away?
Deluged in dopamine and on the brink of decay.
Each drop inched closer.
Under the door and down their spine.
Exploding the sky with a grey that blocked out heaven.
God made the rain, the floods and the tide.
To wash away the sinners, the soulless and already sunken.
Yet she was always destined to float.
Catching stars in pockets and wiping the salvation across our mouths.
But the rain came in.
Straw ladened and camel shaking.
Soaked in misery and shame.
And now she is lost under the surface.
Ripped away in the undertow.
Growing gills and thicker skin.
Crashing on someone else’s shore.

Fundamentally a confused period of wheel spinning

A mud that clings, sticking like the saliva of sin.
Was just darkness.
Covering completely.
Rooted, yet lost.
What miracles could be made in the dark.
When we had forgotten how to spark.
Collectively they comforted.
Wrapping words around like arms to keep us safe.
Yet the fires were still burning.
The neon plumes of dangerous magic.
All out of control.
Nothing moved but danger.
Nothing thrived except fear.
And death crept on near.
Inactive seeds of hope.
Littered the floor once more.
Those hands of light crept back into the void.
And we were once more, covered in darkness.

Forever winter (Part 19)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


in the blink of an eye

Darkness came, not brought on by any magical element but by the celestial dance of the sun and the moon. They had been walking for a long time now, and as the sun had slipped into its slumber, the trees around them awoke with nocturnal noises and eyes.

On they went, the girl from Europa fascinated by what she saw and what she felt. She could sense the determination, the spirit and also the slightest traces of fear in her companions. The lady of the jars was caught in-between feelings herself; she was anxious yet controlled, she also took some joy on their little expedition as it had been some time since she’d had a real adventure.

“Why did you leave Europa?” Ezra asked the girl suddenly, looking down from casting his eye to the sky above which was peppered with stars and clouds. The girl smiled at him.

“Many reasons led to my departure. I had become trapped by my life there in some ways, too big for it all.” She spoke. The lady nodded.

“Like a plant that outgrows it’s pot.” She offered. The girl looked at her, unsure.

“Don’t confuse things.” Ezra said, batting away her comment with his hand.

“We keep some plants in pots, indoors. Not like these wild ones here.” The lady said, casting her own hand around the wood.

“Oh, yes we do the same. Though they are more like creatures than plants, but we keep them in S’imboks, like crystal containers. They perfume and colour the air inside.” The girl said, almost thinking on it still.

“Like keeping a bird in a cage, sometimes the plant needs to fly.” The lady said.

“Now you’re mixing metaphors! Stop confusing things.” Ezra snapped.

“I’m just offering the notion that she outgrew her surroundings.” The lady said, curtly.

“We know that but let her finish at least.”

The girl smiled, she liked how they bickered.

“Well, yes I had outgrown a lot. But there was also a calling. A need to come here. Something was pulling me, a force that I feel stronger now I’m here.” She said, her skin suddenly shivered a dramatic red, her tealness flashing a crimson like a fish darting suddenly. “There was also another….” She began, but she stopped speaking as they had reached a break in the trees.

What struck them all was the moon, not the stone. It hovered off in the distance, bright and beaming, almost purposefully avoiding the clouds which rolled around it. It cast down a brilliant glow unto the snow which washed across the land before them. All except the stone. This was free of any snow, indeed the area surrounding it was clear and dry as if an invisible dome had been placed above it. Around them the trees lined the space in a horseshoe fashion, the stone in the centre. Towards the other side the land fell away onto a cliff’s edge, down to a valley below. It seemed to open up into the sky, but closer to the edge you would see off over the valley and the frozen rivers and lakes, the snow topped trees and the mountains beyond. By daylight you would also see the extent of the magic from her jars, as the snow faded off in the distance, blurring into a sandy threat of a desert.

The stone indeed did look much like a huge peach pit, almost oval in it’s form it dug into the ground from the narrowest tip, suspended upwards against gravity. At the right angle it could be seen as the shape of a heart. It dominated the space, at the height of the surrounding trees it caught the brilliance of the moonlight, reflecting off its mahogany colouring, more like wood than a stone.

“It’s wonderful.” The girl said, transfixed by the huge stone.

There was a silence that permeated the area before them, a quiet hush like that of a church. The girl was almost afraid to step forth, but the lady of the jars strode forth and the girl followed suit.

“This is such a sacred place, but the stone itself is a tool, a beacon even. It transmutes the energy and the magic from above and below. The good and the bad. Energy does not discriminate.” She said.

“How old is it?” The girl asked, moving towards it like a spectre, her eyes wide and her mind eager.

“About as old as she is.” Ezra said, looking around the edges of the trees, watching for movement or signs of danger.

The lady shook her head.

“Be serious and respectful you.” She said to Ezra, before continuing. “This stone is timeless, as is the magic. From time to time people come here to restore their own power, their own magical supply. It’s like a huge battery. But it can do many things.” She said as they approached the stone now.

The ground around it suddenly felt odd without the blanketing of snow they had become used to. The ground was dry and green, even in the moonlight it seemed to breathe out in its luxury of life. The girl noticed a pattern upon the stone, spiralling around and glistening, she noticed, in the light.

“Can I touch it?” the girl asked suddenly, almost surprised herself?

“Of course, yes do. No harm to be done. It belongs to everyone.” The lady said, setting her bag down on the grass and rummaging for something.

“Shouldn’t we…” Ezra began, but just as he said this the girl had reached up, her fingers drawn to the stone like a magnet.

Afterward, Ezra would say he heard what sounded like crystals smashing. The lady said she heard nothing but the whoosh of something giant above her. In the blinding light that exploded from the stone when the girl touched it, they both stumbled backwards falling to the ground. The space was enveloped in the light which seemed to splinter like a diamond, radiating shards of brilliance all around them. Though they could not see, the girl herself was cut through by this light. It did not travel within her but seemed to slice her into a thousand pieces. These pieces hung there for a moment before shooting upward, they span around the stone three times before disappearing into the top like a genie returning to its lamp.

Once the light had faded, both the lady and Ezra sat on the ground staring at the space where the girl had once been.

“What the hell was that?” Ezra said, blinking erratically to try and see through the light stains in his eyes. The lady sat, calculating what had happened.

“That, I think, was something very good or very bad for us. But it was not unexpected.” She said, quietly.

“What, you knew something like this would happen?” Ezra asked.

“Not exactly. But I cannot say there wasn’t a chance of this.” She said, now pushing herself up.

“Where is she?” He asked, a little trace of panic in his voice.

“That…I am not sure of just yet.” She replied, helping him up also.

“Wonderful.” He said sarcastically, almost used to her approach to matters.

“It is really. I’ve never seen it do that.” She said with a small curious smile.

The magical process of the disappearance of the girl from Europa was a coming together of many things. The old magic that lay in the stone and the world, the kineticness of her own energy brought to the planet across starry space. The moonlight and the zodiac position of the astral bodies. The makeup of the girl’s body, pressured in Earth’s atmosphere, and the consciousness of the girl herself who was longing to change and evolve. All these things came together that night at the Mondol stone. There was a book, kept at the back of a dusty bookshelf in the house of Jaered (The candle keeper). In this book there foretold all these happenings, from the girl’s arrival to her emersion into the stone. Prophecies are tricky things at the best of times, but all that took place was indeed there on those pages, tucked at the back. Jaered never knew of this of course, or he would have been very excited about what was taking place and would naturally know how it would all end. As it was, he didn’t and slumbered blissfully unaware many miles away from them, dreaming of cheese scones and pickle.


 

Vindication

As lips part, unleashed dogs rip and wrought.
Choking on the tiniest thought.
That burn away nirvanic benediction.
And grabs the wood for your own crucifixion.
For a pox you are in eyes of scarlet tension.
A strangled lie of incomprehension.
That simmers to a sinner’s plea.
The fragile-ness of complexity.

Arrive/Depart/Transfer

Stripped back today’s waste.
Our suspicion rises.
What you choose to do, what flounders.
Prepared to turn me inside out again.
Airport lighted, with the sun still sleeping.
Bore me down to my appled-core.
Picking out the seeds you planted.
And that I washed with tears.
Alighted.
My boarding pass heart in hand.
To see such new wonders in your eyes.
Breaking from home.
Rest your head on my shoulder, I will read you bad poetry.
Whispered deeply.
Into your heart.
You loved me today, as the night colours away.
It breathed new life inside.
Returning from Saturn and watching the universe tip over.
The others none the wiser.
Souls that were drawn out of committee.
Leached from the darkness.
Hard to take off.
Now night-time while travellers sleep.
With you, I always fly.
That south western sky, heading to the red earth.
For you are everything.
And all I need.

Spirited

You see?
All of this remains.
Before. Behind. Way after.
The crucible cracks and splutters in its creation.
Offering golden wings in which to ascend.
Where will those heavy wings take us.
On that lunar breeze which blows from the lips of god.
A substituted living now folds into the ocean.
This blessing of cotton wraps around my eyes.
Yet still I see.
If I wait for you, what dies in my veins?
If I go now, will you remain?
The hesitation catches me like asthma.
Your love pollutes my body like oxygen.
Fixing me to rise only when your lungs heave.
At times we are at a distance.
Calling half a world away.
Yet still I remain, waiting for you to see.
Waiting and believing.
That love in your eyes.

Gravitate to grief

Listen to this episode.


Watching the clouds roll over the sky outside my window, I can’t but think the world is changing to fit my mood. My consciousness seeping out of this skin and manifesting my universe. If only I were that powerful. An alchemic touch to turn the things that are as cold as stone and black as coal, to a wondrous gold.

I touch the place, where my heart used to be. Wondering where this chasm came from. Wondering why it was taken. This wondering keeps me from other things; making copious cups of tea, looking at pictures of you; dancing that kitchen knife across my wrists. (Bury me where you find me)

Nothing has begun to matter. The phone has rung insistently on and off all day. Souls looking for connection. Checking in on me, to see if I’m okay; to check if I haven’t done anything silly. To save me from myself. Silly was always my nature.

I watch the clouds more as they roll on and war with one another. I used to look for things in the cloud patterns. Their bursting explosions that would turn into animals or faces. I don’t see anything there now that I wish to see. Now I only want to tear my eyes out. To stop viewing a world I wish to have no part of. A world without you, is not something I want to be within. It tore my heart out that day. The departure day I have come to know it. Wednesday…. why not?

My skin aches and my head is heavy. I feel gravity’s pull now more than ever. The sad disposition is not my usual sensibility. Hope could always be found by the turning of a page, the rolling of a new day, and beyond the heartache. But someone has drained the colour from my life and washed it with a headache grey. Placed it on repeat.

I pretend to be asleep when they come over. The ones whose phone calls failed to find an audience. Their good intentions on the other side of yesterday grow faint. Like a voice in the distance calling me back. They mean well, and I love them. They have gone through the same, the similar. The maddening familiar. I smile and nod as they place the flowers and rearrange the plates. Not noticing that all the flowers will be scorched now. They do not see that I am breaking away. This recalibration to a life I was apathetic to before, is really me crumbling into something else. Something so selfishly encompassing even God will not forgive.

Sleep. I need this.

You. I want that.

I smash my inner skull open and dive into memories of you. The smell of your collar bone and the way you used to wear me out. A side glance as you cheat at scrabble. Everything there is central. So certain like the rain. This skull begins to crust over, covering those memories with the sickening smell of death. Like being trapped in a tiny kitchen and burning the toast. These memories catch fire and smoulder, choking me and making my eyes water.

They come around again, touching me while I dream and sweeping away the reflections of myself.

Piece by piece they pick me up. I put myself back together. Banging once more on the doors of heaven but turned away. Shivering out the cold of my core. Watching as the bruises heal and the days fade into years. I will not be the ghost that haunts this space. I will not be the body on your hands that weighs you down. I will be the scar on the surface of life, with empty eyes; replaced with tiny pebbles. Taken from the river of remorse.

MORE FABLES HERE

Blink to worlds

There’s a resonance within.
These bones that call.
Out to the nothing, across god’s table.
The banquet to stars, that hearken us home.
And though it’s hard to try against a world of darkness.
One that creeps in with the rain.
It calls to me daily.
Blinking out of my mind’s eye.
Dropping all mortality.
Reminding my that I am divine.

You’ll see

You will see, said the little whisper.
The sound within.
A distant whimper.
From the voice inside the cracking skull.
The quiet reasoning.
The heart’s strong hull.
That sails beyond a galaxy.
Down here on earth.
In complexity.
These defiant words did manifest.
Into action.
And I must confess.
That I was able to walk away.
From all that trauma.
And sad decay.
And close the book of you and me.
A tired old tale.
Which you will see.

Bord / Edge

Debout sur cette rive une fois de plus.
Sur le bord de l’existence.
Je voussens dans le vent.
Je me sense arrosé dans le marée.
Est-ce que je me vois marcher sur cette plage?
Ou je me sens perdu dans un million de grains de sable.

Stand on this shore once again.
On the edge of existence.
I’m standing in the wind.
I feel watered in the tide.
Do I see myself walking on this beach?
Or feel lost in a million grains of sand.

Beauty trapped

Bind my heart, break my bones.
Sneak in when the lights are off.
When my guard is down.
Snap my soul and slip inside.
Overwhelm and consume me like heroin.
The addict in me pulls you near.
Breathe me in, suck me out.
Spun up in your mind like a crystal chandelier.
Precarious precious beauty.
Your hands on my innocence.
Pulling me down, knocking me over.
Teaching me how to fly.

Forever Winter (Part 18)

The Story so far or Listen to this episode


THE MOUTH OF THE DRAGON

The gentleman of the boxes stumbled into the clearing, tripping over a branch that had been hidden in snow. “Damn it!” he yelled, falling face first into an unspoiled drift. He got to his feet, brushing off the cold white fluff that clung to his long coat. He shook himself much like a dog, clearing the remaining patches of snow and moved on into the clearing and towards the well. The group had not long left, he could make out their tracks in the snow heading off towards the break in the trees where the path led.

He approached the well, now blocked by the magic that the lady of the jars had performed. Though he too was practised in magic arts now, he did not know of this kind and he looked on in curiosity to the strange structured elements, tiny parts of the colo twinkling ever so softly; trapped now. He took out a small box from his bag, not much bigger than a match box. He scraped some of the residue off into the box, returning it to his bag. Then he looked up, and his curiosity once again turned to anger.

“That bloody woman!” he yelled, his voice reverberating around the clearing.

Above the now blocked well, a huge plump grey cloud floated, sprinkling out heavy drifts of snow which fell like cotton wool. The lady of the jars had also set a snow cloud to cover the well quicker and deeper in snow, another way to fight back she had thought.

“Not content with the whole land covered in her blasted snow, she pots about with extra clouds to madden us all!” He said, grabbing off a chunk from the well and sending it angrily up towards the floating mass. It fell softly through, hitting one of the trees not far from him.

He heard it then, movement from the direction of the hit tree as if an animal had scuttled out of sight. He heard another movement too, this time to the side of him. The gentleman of the boxes had lived in the woods for many years now and knew a lot about the habits of nature. He ducked down, reaching into his pocket for something. He watched silently, and then he heard another sound, a rustling in the same tree where the clump had hit.

He was quick and quiet as he lurched forward and threw out some tiny amber stones which seemed to hit his target. He approached cautiously, keeping his distance slightly. It was a Dimian, as he thought it might be due to the well. He did not fear these creatures, quite the reverse. He knew that they contained much power that could be extracted if you knew how. The amber stones he had thrown clung to the little black blob, pinning it down now like tree sap. Its eyes flashed in alarm, and it oozed some sort of green foam which stained the snow around it.

It was rare for them to be on their own, and the gentleman looked around him quickly, checking to see if there were others. Satisfied there were not, he approached the little creature.

“I guess you were attracted to the same thing I hunt too.” He said, opening his bag and reaching inside. It is true that the Dimian were tracking the girl from Europa, this one had become confused by the power the lady of the jars had used on the well. It had lingered and become lost, trying to return underground. The gentleman of the boxes took out a glass jar, and scooped up the creature, quickly stuffing a stopper in the top. The stones that had pinned the thing began to hiss and melt inside the glass now, and slowly began to turn into a soft brown liquid. The Dimian flashed its eyes once more before the liquid covered it completely, freezing it as the liquid solidified.

The man took out a small cardboard wrapper and covered the jar like a wine bottle. He preferred using boxes, naturally, and even using a jar irked him as it was a practice of the lady of the jars. But this was the only way he could preserve things alive, unlike his boxes of the dead that he handled usually. He smiled to himself in his successful capture, as Dimian are notoriously hard to catch and can always be quite dangerous. With a fresh spur of energy, he chased on after the group, embolden now to succeed.

The group had trudged on through the trees, the weather remaining more open and calmer to help their path. The girl from Europa took in all that she saw, for on her planet there were no things as trees, and the animals there were quite different. She spotted an owl in one of the trees she passed and asked the lady about them.

“Usually nocturnal, but I fear my incessant snow confuses the poor dears.” The lady had said, noticing how large the owl was.

“Nocturnal?” the girl asked curiously.

“Only out at night-time, sleeps all day. The lucky devils.” Ezra said, looking behind them to see if they were being followed.

“Oh, I see. Yes, we have creatures that have similar patterns. Our days are long there, but some only come out at certain times.” She said, somewhat dreamily.

“It’s interesting how so different, yet so similar things are.” The lady said, smiling at the girl. The girl smiled too, comforted by the familiarity. Even across the vastness of space, simple things connected them.

“I think there’s trouble brewing.” Ezra said, nodding his head back in the direction they had come. They all looked that way and could see some birds taking flight just off in the distance.

“Oh my, I thought we would have been there before he came along.”  The lady said.

“It’s that man, isn’t it?” The girl asked, closing her eyes and seeing the shadowy images now of both him and the Dimian. The shapes moved like clouds in her mind, one brighter due to its proximity.

“Yes, he’s a pebble in my shoe that’s for sure. But he has maligned intent on you I am afraid, and we cannot be doing with this now here in the middle of the woods.” She added. “Ezra, we need…”

But Ezra was already moving off down the path where they had come from.

“I’m on it.” He called back to them. He held out a little vial, the Dragon’s tongue that the lady had given to them all to keep them warm, and to add some light to their journey. Rushing now, he went down the path until he was in a dense spot of trees. The ones here seemed to clump together, throwing dark shadows, and casting much murky thoughts. Ezra stopped, looking around quickly. He could hear the movements coming off further, but he thought he could make out two groups of noises.

He did not hesitate, tipping out the Dragon’s tongue flame into his hands where it flashed in the air of the world. Tipping it back and forth like a hot potato, Ezra breathed onto the little flame, and muttered the incantation that he knew only too well. He was the keeper of the flame in his little post, protecting her cottage back home. The flame roared and grew upward and out, a real magical dragon soaring up to the trees. The red beast roared and sneaked around the trunks, gobbling the light up and creating a black void in its wake. Ezra turned and ran back to re-join the group as the dragon raced through the wood, destroying the light that lay hidden between the trees and cast down from the sky above. It was as if a huge hand was brushing a blackness over the wood. Not the kind where your eyes could adjust to, but a dark void that allowed no light to remain. The red dragon danced in spectacle and haste, snatching the light, and roaring its triumph. It raced back to Ezra, sweeping an emptiness around them as it shrank down and returned back into the little vial that he held out for it.

The lady of the jars held up her own little light, casting a beam off in the direction they needed to head.

“That should do it for now.” She said, nodding in satisfaction. The girl from Europa stood and smiled at Ezra.

“That was wonderful.” She said, having been transfixed by the dragon’s dance.

“It was nothing.” Ezra said, proudly. Whispering a gratitude to the Dragon’s tongue flame now residing safely back inside his little vial.

The blackness did its job. Not only had it blocked the way for the gentleman of the boxes, but it also permeated below the ground. Now, Dimian are used to underground conditions where there is little light, but the magic from the Dragon’s tongue flame does more than paint things black. It disables senses and orientation, and for them it overwhelms them with a pocket of energy from the spell. So, while they consume in their static state, they are completely disoriented, much like the little one that unfortunately found its way into the bag of the gentleman of the boxes. The man too was bamboozled by the snatched light. Now lost in the dark in the middle of the forest. He searched the depths of his own mind for a resource to help him, for he had had enough now of the woman’s meddling charms.


 

Stuck

I dreamt about the future.
Unravelling and revealing.
Yet all they do is talk it back.
I’d been beyond before.
Far away and out of reach.
Such things I’d seen.
Now the stars drip down like lies off a tongue.
Hold it and eat them. Consume.
Cough.
Try to let me in again, though a distant world away.
An outcast to the tribe.
This could be the saddest day.
And though I get lyrical, as I always will.
Tarred and caught in the well-placed trap.
I ask that you touch me once more.
I am trying.
Come walk these shoes and wear this soul.
Give me new direction.
So easy to get stuck.
But not the other way around.

Sweetness follows

Jasmine lips and honey eyes.
Dance on my flesh like miniature dragonflies.
Growing roses in my heart.
The ivy of my mind to twist into.
Licking your skin and tasting the ocean.
Chasing your wave and finding sand in my shoe.
You.
Blue and free like the sky that pulls over my eyelids.
Whispering into my skull, the tantric movement of tomorrow.
Taking me off to another land.
Where your skeleton slips into my skin each day.
And crystal tears carve a path right through me.
Amber shivers and slumbered eyes, welcoming these dreams.
Tip-toeing through the water lilies of your world.
Hovering like the hummingbird of your heart.
Beat and hum.

Recapturing

The silent soul who wades this world.
With brittle bones and sad inclinations.
Arrives at a place in a memory.
Strung up with words that bind.
Does he fall deeper into the despair of an age?
Of that turning sun that snatches all that lay in his hands?
Or does he shift, arch his back to the march of time.
Following from the front, the best laid plans?
A solider in a war of change.
Corrupting from within.

Love come rescue

Arrived, 4am. Too tired to see the world for what it was.
Slipping into the cracks and shadows that fill my eyes.
Too numb to notice that I couldn’t notice you.
Standing with arms outstretched like wings.
The wren that always had strength to fly.
That slipped into the open wounds and found our hearts.
It patches us up now, flitting inside our skin.
Pulling feathers over broken bones.
It does not notice the cartilage cage it builds up around itself.
A prison to its good intentions.
It too now needs help, to lift up and soar again.
Love, please come rescue us.
Make us fit to fly and leave this place.
With only fallen feathers to show we were here at all.

BOOK RELEASE – Four by tara caribou

Raw Earth Ink

I’m happy to announce the release of my second poetry collection, four. Four is 185 pages of black-and-white photography and poetry by me. This book will only be available in paperback through me directly and on lulu as well as in e-book format on Kindle. The e-book releases December 1st and the paperback is available right now.

Back copy:

Wherever there is number, there is beauty.’ -Proclus, Greek Philosopher

Four. Four seasons. Four elements. Four phases of the moon. Four is the number of humanity in the physical realms and represents the now. It is a foundation in calmness and being grounded.

Within these pages you will discover fresh perspectives on love in its many forms. You will see the earth through the eyes of nature. You will feel the despair, the horror, of dark depression. You will feel the green tendrils of new love. Inside you may even…

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