Blessings to you dear Caroline......each of your poems takes me along, into my memory, my imagination and my hidden strength......and I KNOW it......and am restrengthened......thank you!
I listened through to these quiet a few times the other day. I am just now seeing them on the page. Blind to the letters and by the ear, they felt like a hallway with many thresholds, one after the other. Seasoned. Both ways.
Today I am struck by the poetics of jackdaw-sown accidents gone, if they can slip through, into jackdaw sheltering oaks.
I first met this flotilla with talk of jack-daws in the ruins. The Oaks of us, if at all, will be just a wish of woods until long after us. Still...it seems jackdaw scat is kin to nightingale piss, oak seed and fragments of darksong. To Us! All.
Blessings to you dear Caroline......each of your poems takes me along, into my memory, my imagination and my hidden strength......and I KNOW it......and am restrengthened......thank you!
Hurray for your restrengthening.
I listened through to these quiet a few times the other day. I am just now seeing them on the page. Blind to the letters and by the ear, they felt like a hallway with many thresholds, one after the other. Seasoned. Both ways.
Today I am struck by the poetics of jackdaw-sown accidents gone, if they can slip through, into jackdaw sheltering oaks.
I first met this flotilla with talk of jack-daws in the ruins. The Oaks of us, if at all, will be just a wish of woods until long after us. Still...it seems jackdaw scat is kin to nightingale piss, oak seed and fragments of darksong. To Us! All.