The silk worm and the monkey

Thursday, 24 November 2011

There’s an effortless lightness.
Legs swing gaily in the sunshine atop a sleeping log, scanning across tall grasses and seed heads bowing allegiance to the spring-time breeze god.
Slipping nakedly into the river, into the slipstream, life becomes silk. Floating, smooth, natural, free. Flowing across skin beautifully.
Alongside discarded garments strewn on the riverbank, a monkey scratches at its pits. Clothes gone from the back, so too the ape’s hairy grip.
No more skulking inside a bulbous back end, the heaviness of dark. Great things begin subtle, the silk worm tells the monkey.
With an ever expanding heart.

11.11.11 at 11.11

Friday, 11 November 2011

I spent mine amongst the daisies.