San Miguel de Allende

 

by night

the silver-plated eyelid of night closes over the light of day, and a heavy blue dust falls over the heaving sphere of the earth.
an imperceptible wind rises from the underground, the undergrowth lifting slightly in its wake. night scorpians emerge from under sleeping stones, clicking pincers in salute to the stars. snakes shed used skins, leaving behind them a hundred winding trails through the sand to the foot of an eternal jungle.

within the dense, steaming darkness, shadowed forms oscillate between columns of black that fall from the canopy above, gyrating in a frenzied ritual of movement. sounds of ecstasy rise from the nocturnal sprawl until they are again absorbed by the vastness of an open black sky.

the first teardrop of light falls from the sun as the golden eyelid opens on a new day. and all that is left of the night before are disturbances of the soil.

Adiós, Oaxaca. Ha sido maravilloso..

The time has come to leave the magical Oaxaca and to begin the grand journey.. if it hasn't indeed begun. Well, to be honest, its really just hasta luego, until next time, because this place figures in my future plans and holds a special place in my heart..

Now, armed with an imperfect knowledge of a divine language, and firm footing on unsteady ground, I shake-off the comforts of the familiar and allow myself to be lead by the hand of fate.

string trail, spring mail.

I run the string through my hands, looking desperately for the end.
I find it frayed at your feet, just like yesterday.
And I realise this voice has been in my head all this time, fingers all in my ears trying to fish it out.
I retrace my steps with the string tied to my finger, looking to make my own way.

Arbol de Tule y Santo Domingo.. two trees.

Good food and home-spun tats at Calle Carranza

diaphragm

My diaphragm, where anticipation lives, glows red with enough heat to forge silver.

my country is the sky

The four walls that I call time and space buckle and fold into oblivian, giving way to a reality that is forever shifting, so that every molecule around me is interchangeable.
I am beginning to see the potential in the universal; I know that whatever I send up to the moon will eventually, when night reaches the shores of my homeland, fall like dust at the feet of my intended; With fingers plunged into this edge of the ocean, I am effectively touching her deepest depths and furthest reaches; When sleep draws me upwards and outwards, I sit in the company of the planets and observe from my vantage point the comings and goings below. People move like tides of water colour seeping into the grainy surface of the earth - but I can always make out the familiar crowns.

When two of the same thought coincide, surely they meet in the air somewhere in the atmosphere.


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With all that's been said, I'm sorry I can't be there in body. Just know that my thoughts and my heart are at home at this time.
If my country is the sky, then family is my home.
-
R.I.P. George Doyle.
Bye, Grandad.