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Showing posts from 2023

Day ended with moonlight on the water.

headlight window fire

Distant almond blossom shone like coral.

When the long trail of bird-clouds.

just people...

long wings beating through the sunlit aisles.

Long scrolls and columns of cloud poured away in the grey east wind and made the sky seem endless.

Light strengthened with the wind.

the golden-red fire of the dilating sun.

Knowing how to yield is strength.

Barnabas Saul, lying in the ... hall was strangely trubled by a spirituall creature abowt mydnight.

a strange meteore in forme of a white clowde

spirit boats

Who is he whose roof is fire, whose walls are living serpents, and whose floor is a stream of water?

life in the Field of Reeds.

I was dragged down in a rush of wind.

the green land like a swift rebounding flame.

Trees smudged black as charcoal against the clear green light.

the grey dimness of the sea.

slid slowly through sun and shadow towards earth.

the seven steps downwards and the seven steps upwards

Theoretically, no limits can be set to the field of consciousness, since it is capable of indefinite extension.

"Of what does the hen dream?"

But which dreams are the least distorted?

Clearly these objections are a menace to the success of our work.

It was of a blue colour, and its body sparkled like a diamond.

The eye is half blue, half white.

“souls that had become water"

“stone, which is no stone”

a metallic sphere shaped like a drop.

balanced in the wind, Baker.

through the dark shadows of the trees.

brimmed with blue and silver light.

to falling weirs of rain.

blurred and distorted by the million shining prisms of the rain.

like a heart in flames.

The wind rose from the north, like cold fire.

It clouded the sun’s reflection with a streaming haze of emerald blue.

cold amber of the afterglow casts clear black lunar shadows.

a process I have described elsewhere as the ‘bezoaric effect’

between the primary sensorial articulation of transference

I will be back...

Bronze fruit.

turn the deer into a flicker of a promised otherwise.

Campo de' Fiori

Stars did not know where they belonged

a willow leaf carried in the quivering wind.

the moon moves over the field of dark

Under pylons, in a flooded field.

glare. Distance was blown away.

through a river’s gliding skin.

dark in the sun-dazzle floating

In the wide pathless desert of dim sleep,

Of starry ice

Upon a wintry bough

Art thou pale for weariness

Angels of rain and lightning

Can Sunday.

rising on the bright rim of the black cloud, dark in the sun-dazzle floating upon it.

Dark red glasswort shining like drowned blood.

Starlings poured back like jets of smoke.

The sunburnt sky grew hot.

I see the most beautiful birds in the most beautiful trees

the sun was shining from the centre of a great blue circle.

the mauve haze of the northern sky.

Colour ebbed to brilliant chiaroscuro.

‘Vokins, what d’you need a ham for?’

deep stillness, between the early stars and the long afterglow.

Dim, flat, desolate lands that cauterise all sorrow.

into the cold unworldliness of water

a memory as vivid as burning magnesium.

Da'at and the Great Abyss.

A slow low note and an iron bell.

What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?

beyond the Loadstone Mountain

That lives in memory

Amid the cloudy wrack

Fantasy or incident

Bathe in moon and sun and sea

neither soul nor body has been crossed.

a word is more than noise

Naming it with ecstatic breath

over the wastelands westward

salt over your eyes

listless, diseased with stars

boats upon the sea at night

Of horses and horses of the sea, white horses.

Glittering among grey-leaved olive-trees

Unvisited by tempest or by sun

For air and exercise

Nor the mill of the mind

between the lines wake up

mountain’s desperate heart