Goethean Science

You are an imaginary world to me and I don't know if your colours can be seen in any wheel;
spinning / swirling / spiralling.

And there are dots on your insides.
and I am happiest of all
to give of myself
to make them move
on the big screen.

You have seen glimpses of that vast eternity
(way past the constellations on our paper maps)
-and you have passed them on to me.

Ancient narrative
being shared on a table covered
in stained Irish daisies.
While our pigeon
coo coooo co coo's
outside of our first tenement block,
in our second spring.

Blackford Hill

I have been a-wandering for a-way too long of a time. I have dragged my night times from village to town and none of the names sound familiar, anymore.A morning came on which I lost the faces of everyone i grew up with. I am forgetting the paths through the woods. The bluebells are turning violet and we are losing colours as we sleep.


I want to see the sun set from the top of this same hill, again and again; with you. And I want to be shown the way back home. On nights when volcanoes wrap our sunset up in a red blanket a little girl loved, in the past.
Talk of circles and life in its rhythm- a table that holds us wrapped up in its wood.

I want to share this hill with you; again and again and again.