her town, her sleeping ice

her town, her sleeping ice
Anima, animae f.
2001, revised 2023

Jung’s ‘Bollingen Castle’ built by his own hand, image sourced from: cgjung.net (avec accord), CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org

walls
thick
as night,
gates heavy
as four seasons
turning, water winding
through stone to the
heart of the square,
all under her hand,
and hers only,
her suitors are words
answered in a midnight
mirror onto paper,
cathedrals rise
and sink
where she prays
alone as if ordained,
the stained glass rose
of dusk slips over her
shoulders in kneeling as
she gathers her hair

the joker – a play

the joker* – a play
beijing 2010
*reference to the joker as he appears in the traditional Tarot card pack.

The Joker as depicted in the A. E. Waite Tarot pack illustrated by artist & fellow member of the Golden Dawn, Pamela Colman Smith

does it get better?
i don’t know,
but worse,
for sure.

i took to the
road a muddy
path at dawn
that first
dawn
the sea swelling
to the dark
foot of the cliffs
the path
along them
at the
mad edge

i knew
the break out
of sun on
a world
of crooked towns
the ships at
harbour rigged

undrunk on the eve

undrunk on the eve
1 january 2023, in the glen

Undrunk in sober light… a post-Weathercat snap of the past

in uncertain
dusk of new
year’s eve
finally
transplanted
the sunflower
seedlings, grown
adolescent tall in
the rush-up of weeks
to the last hours of
last year, into
earth hacked
back from lawn,
transplanted them
in dusk as my
own saying of
the wish that
some good
out of that year
might flower