maybe there are no words today – lying forward on a fallen tree, legs either side, camera under my ribcage looking up the trunk to the dead branches and the branches newly leaved and feel this tree is another example of that slow go, the holding and breathing away of matter ‘any’ matter human, plant, tree, air, water – no water is the ongoing water’s dispersal is different elementally, knowing there is only a finite amount of water is unlike
this burial, this laying down so comforting like sleep, my feet hang back are in the water not the air gentle rock as this one flows with speed, its like being in air , it takes my foot gently and holds it in an unheld way, I have boots on , maybe that should change…
garlic is the scent, one yellow leaf in the stream against all the new green
the bluebells so unlike water
there is a break in the sky where the tree has fallen undoing the canopy and I feel rain
today I am populating – our bodies, our boots, our shadows, a slug alongside a a deep red bottle sharp blood colour, a dog, a person all invited in, boots in water dangling, then our slip into submersion the shriek of cold ritual and quick recovery baptism of course to complete a returning
discuss if colder or warmer and if water holds its own and air changes, the pleasurable impulse of the first time missing but fun to do and nice to treasure after – our bodies stream encased for seconds that stream now our outer skin, watering us under our clothes – as rain falls to water our outside layers as well, I like this secret knowledge that I will carry into the day
encased in stream
its as if all the ‘outer’ things are taking me today with this populating, maybe I am too tired today, an envy of the deeper mind when mine is tripping lightly at least I am not rejecting that as irelevant because its not deep
legs dangle again from bridge, both write with land stream, I am more attached to the idea of stream than this place – stop writing clare
just go to it
