Black days of winter turned into white days of winter turned into deep blue middle days then baby blue middle days and now the days are green.
The deer always arrive, as out of thin air itself, exactly at the same moment as the green grass HELLO!
Dancing white deer tale, deep infinite eyes, so translucent you are, how quickly the world spins right now!
I know the days will slow down again, come the heavy orange days of summer then the autumn gold then the deep purple, then the deep dark, then the white, then the blue then the green HELLO!
They say (that would be Eliot)
April is the cruellest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain
… and that right about sums it up.
Days of swift moving, working with my bare hands, barefooted, days of lazy on the couch, holy, holy, holy rain.
I dance with death when I write on that book. I burst with life when I spread all of my seeds on the ground, in a spiral.
The cruelty is to be found in the overwhelmed state of perplexity.
I have a hundred things to say but am mostly soaked in my literary problem (maybe I just like that phrase), head first into the headlights, against the wall, brainsplatter, blood. Grass growing from deep below, the vibrant neon green of the birch and then obviously and most appropriate hail
.. because why not?
This is also holy because it comes so sudden and with such force.
Out of this world.
I feared for the small plants… how they would be hammered down like pegs but they rose again, the small plants and the world I inhabit at the moment is a life of small plants and small birds, a world of steady uncompromising green, a world of fragile bursting neon, a world of fast running deer and I can´t seem to collect my thoughts.
Plus I have a hundred things to say but I gather the most important must be this:
Thunderboy turned five.
And he got his very first real knife.
And grandmother is visiting. So.
Of other news: Jeppe and Persille reached their crowdfunding goal before time which is also a grand celebration (if you hurry you can still get your name in the cover if you donate smiley heart) And tomorrow Lasse is performing some political first of may poetry slam in Valby (go say hi and buy the poor man a beer) only to fetch the tipi and then he´ll be off; into the woods, into the woods, he´ll return every week though because we´re sharing the garden this year, this whole life being an experiment in sharing and in holding on.
AN IMPORTANT NOTE: It is a deeply satisfying and justifying feeling to feel the real support from you, loyal readers, lovely readers, this is purpose, this is happiness, giving is the golden law so I thank you so much, more than you know, for receiving.
From my deep red hammering heart to yours. A bond. How holy too!
It´s funny how we kind of accidentally made a creative collective of sorts here, it´s crazy these things even still exit, I thought they were dead but now I think of the uncompromising grass and the way it will always return (HELLO) and (well I went on a rather long rant here because I told you I have a hundred things to say but april is cruel and my mind is brain splatter and blood all tangled up in my literary problem and such so bye)