translation

I am pulled back to the forest and the fractal, tactile tapestry of colours captures me in its cosmos - I keep walking

Fungi of a thousand types pop up to greet me along the way - some bright, some gentle, some menacing. I listen as I go and feel their speech beneath my feet as the giant ashes wave slowly.

I am clumsy and brutish and loud in this place – I feel the violent intrusion of my presence but I don’t want to leave. I am heavy with the baggage of being

Fibres of my being and this being and their being pull me all at once and I carry on moving

My feet are not adequate translators, too dense and stubborn for nuance so I find myself lying again with the damp soil and brittle bed of leaves beneath my back

Entangled webs of wanting vibrating – I am a stranger in this land

In my room I’m with the texts that take me from there to here and here to there. My favourite ones of the earth, of this world and that world and the many worlds. Their truths encoded in lines of textual tableaus I do not yet understand but yet I shuffle and struggle fruitlessly onward

I read and read and read and I am empty
A vessel of fleetingness

a receptacle full of holes

able to hold nothing

my mind is a net bag

through which all ideas escape

left with a fleshy messy

mass of matter

but apparently

the

way

is

empty

‘Imagine it: the ice, the scouring snow, the darkness, the ceaseless whine and scream of the wind. In that black desolation a little band of poets crouches. They are starving; they will not eat for weeks. On the feet of each one, under the warm belly feathers, rests one large egg, thus preserved from the mortal touch of the ice. The poets cannot hear each other; they cannot see each other. They can only feel the other's warmth. That is their poetry, that is their art. Like all kinetic literatures, it is silent; unlike other kinetic literatures, it is all but immobile, ineffably subtle. The ruffling of a feather; the shifting of a wing; the touch, the faint, warm touch of the one beside you. In unutterable, miserable, black solitude, the affirmation. In absence, presence. In death, life.