Sunday, September 22, 2013


It fills you with the soft
essence of vanished flowers, it becomes a trickle sharp as a hair 
that you followfrom the honey pot over the table

and out the door and over the ground,and all the while it thickens,

grows deeper and wilder, edged with pine boughs and wet boulders, 
pawprints of bobcat and bear, until

deep in the forest yous huffle up some tree, you rip the bark,

you float into and swallow the dripping combs,bits of the tree, crushed bees 
 - a taste composed of everything lost, in which everything lost is found


  1. wow it looks so stunning over there! Enjoy!

  2. Extract from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet - I love this one too.

    And now you ask in your heart,
    "How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
    Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
    But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
    For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
    And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
    And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.