The sky just like all of us

There is magic, a current, a tree

I know it

Which people other than ourselves could feel

It pools here, gathers, fattened droplets

which they vainly tried to shape and steer.

But perhaps back then, the Sky allowed it

Took pity, or sensed kindred blood

Dripped moonlight on their dancing shoulders

wanted, simply, to be seen and loved.

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Callanish Three

At the top of this stone is the sun

, the moon

, the sun

are in each other at the top,

and the sky

is black lichen clouds or

is that the hills of the moor?

They trickle down a slope in the stone,

and fall

like a waterfall, a river

or a lightning strike

which forks,

like every future does.

And in the near-middle of the river

is a canyon’s cleft, which opens

A mouth

A vagina

and now that I study it

everything seems

to be flowing from there.