Tuesday, March 6, 2012

a little bairn yourself

(cut me, i think that i bleed terra cotta silt 

drain me i think my lymph 
opaque indigo

--i spit lapis bile--)
 .
 .
 .
 .
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there is so much love that you do not know!

so much, love!

truly i cut this planet in half like an apple 

for you

i think myself slowly turning to bronze 

for you,

that i might be useful

that i might be of value 

that you might wish that i should be 

buried in your barrow 

although i know 

you're just a bairn yourself

a little bairn yourself
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.

i know that it is scary! 

i am afraid. 

and you 

little bairn i know 

your fear to be more pungent

you know exactly what it is 

that you fear. 

you know its 

unknowable 

face.

have smelled 

its frost.

.
.
.
.
.
you would grit to hear me say it 

but you are wise with sorrow. 

and i am stupid 

with love.
.
.
.
.
.
it makes me smile 

at chalk skulls.

stare long 

at bare nothing, 

write 

little poems. 






"she smiles as one who loves to smile" --sandy denny

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