These structures are the foundation upon which our current structures of thought and consciousness are built. As the cracks spread they filled with golden light, like nectar or honey.
This week's writing practice has drawn on the seasonal shift into Imbolc and the power of the waxing moon to plant seeds for future growth.
The dubs in our ritual collaboration became duppies: the returned spectres of colonial racial violence in contemporary Britain; the silences of the untold; the repetitions and echoes of (one) another's words.
tasting w/ my finger
Boulder Solstice - spontaneous ritual poem performed at Boulder's Georgaphical Centre 21 June 2018
bitter, grass-green memory of taste