Tag: poetry
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The forrest.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside youAre not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,Must ask permission to know it and be known.The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,I have made this place around you.If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.No two…
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Bondi kill.
and it speaks toour collective lapse.That an awl of crimson horrorcan puncturea Bondi sunset beach.
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Things men* have made.
Things men have made with wakened hands, and put soft life into are awake through years with transferred touch, and go on glowing for long years.And for this reason, some old things are lovely, warm still with the life of forgotten men who made them. —DH Lawrence.
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