TheFeatheredSleep – Places and Persons
Stand here
moss washing over rock
hands in time
I think of all who have passed through
their atoms blessing sky
if you were here with me
your Irish bones and Welsh soul
how many years will I wish
you were with me
this girl of shifting blood
drawn to the pasture lands of Cornwall
more than any purposing Chaîne des Puys can evoke
the Sioule wrapping herself between empty valleys
or the sorrow of les Pyrénées, a gentle horror
languishing in Cathar country
their ghosts stumbling between worlds
I never belonged in those spaces
memory an acerbic ¿Cómo se dice
*as flies to wanton boys are we to the gods
just as I do not now, own a home
in the barren tumbleweed of Texas
unattached, they call it ‘winged pigweed’
even as we sneeze it away to carry on
lonely pilgrimage amongst spoiled tarmac
perhaps it wasn’t…
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