We met in caravanseach circle arrivingcalled together by common curiosityto sit around the fire of our longings.
Burn me down.The clothes off my back.The rhythm beyondthe counterattack.
Oh bless me,oh bemy lionheart.
The path to concentration is beset on all sidesby the temptationof distraction
The longing to be elsewhereor everywhere or nowhererobs here and now ofwhat it has…
The spell is a promisethat says there issomething to be found,that says there isa force that couldjust break through,that says you just needto tryharder.
A thought this morningOut walking -I thoughtI oughtTo love my bodyAs it was moving -To allow and enjoyThe infinite intelligenceOf this living systemAnd its movement -And in that momentI said to myselfThat I loved my body -And then laughedAt the physical recognitionThat the ‘I’ that I clung…
I am writing to you from the desertWhere I have wrung myself outLike a damp flannel on an airless day.
There is nothing left here to offer.No deep well of intuition. No gleeful spark.The dusty casing discarded by an…
it’s hard to be clear about being clear, because when something’s clear, there’s nothing there.
www.charlesdavies.com
You may wish for a riverTo pour down your spineAnd wash away the growlingDependency of desperate days.
You may wish for an oceanTo rise and overwhelmThe hyperactive strategiesOf agility and agency.
Did I tell you already?
That I was driving alonga country road aroundthe corner from me andI saw a sign that said
It’s hard to sayWhen something standsJust out of reachForever
A rich tree of goodnessFertile fingers sink into the soilA ribbon that wants to wind aroundAnd bind two soulsA long sunset that sings…