#penelope shuttle

[violettesiren]

The forest of summer is its own weight in gold and you have climbed the tallest tree at noon to bask above me and to kiss heaven, the fiery alpine. High spirits! Silent golden child, odd smiling pondering boy blossoming in a tree, what country have you left to come and dwell here in the burning branches and lion breath of the woods? Child, boy, son I shall not carry, bear or nourish, glowing ghost, summer boy who beckons to me as I stand watching, soles of my feet scorching on the sandy path, I know you are not a child I can claim, you are not a child of the flesh, the fierceness of that. Child without questions, child vigilant in a tree, amazing as any thing made of gold, you live where the future is, with all its carelessness and charm, its mistrust of direct answers. The summer will not leave you behind, you are where summer is, you are the heart of its heart, riding your solar beast, the thoroughbred summer. When I ask you your name you smile and say, 'you know my name.' Furnace-Page of the Green and Gold of August, Seigneur of the Summer, young Caesar of the Blazing Leaves, wild, lenient and motherless, I recognize your boyish title. Eagerly, easily, I lose my heart to you, my Heatwave Cupid.

August Boy by Penelope Shuttle

[journalofsolitude]

Penelope Shuttle

[journalofsolitude]

Penelope Shuttle

[journalofsolitude]

from Quiet Year

Penelope Shuttle

[whisperthatruns]

Running out of Time

I was running out of time or time was running out of me I was no longer decades of clear water Time was a cache of lions, the end of all the birds I was hurrying to catch up with Time, while Time stayed home doing the ironing, folding his minutes, smoothing his hours, soon there'd be not a crumpled second for me to hide in 

Penelope Shuttle

[mere-gossamer]

I cast you into the waters. Be lake, or random moon. Be first light, lifting up its beggar’s cup. I scatter your ashes. Be the gale teaching autumn to mend its ways, or leopard so proud of his spotted coat. Be the mentor of cherry trees. I cast your dust far and wide, a sower broadcasting seed: Be wild rose or hellebore or all-heal. Descend as a vein of silver, never to be seen, deep in the lynx-eyed earth. Rise as barn owl white as dusk; dove or raven marvelling at his flight. Know different delights.

Penelope Shuttle, The Scattering

[stickyveins]

There’s meaning in the various colours of doves.The blood of a he-goat is so hot it can dissolve diamonds.The spider is an aerial worm that feeds on air.A drink made from the tears of a stag cures heartache.Bees are the very smallest of birds, born from the bodies of oxen.The cat is a shadow animal, the Bible has never believed in cats.The eagle will not converse with falconersbut a she-wolf will take communion from a priest.The blue-eyed phoenix lives on a diet of dragons.Hunting dogs are just as beautiful as the tallest medieval horses, the destriers,or the soul when it is first spied as some tiny thing, a maggot or a grub.When the starling speaks in French, you must listen.The hare may not always be a Christian.The moth found on a young boy’s kimono sleeve brings sorrow.Hawks stare at one another without moving their eyes;this is how their young are conceived.The dragon-fly never stops working on the twelve volumes of his memoirs.The pig takes mercy on the vineyard, and is the world’s best wet-nurse.The he-wolf must be tricked into sleep, then boundwith a rope made from the sound of an ant’s footfall,the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird.The snake is the best doll-maker you could ever wish for.The elephant! He takes up so much room, he won’t tolerate the crocodile.He’s so wise, how can I forbid him?The three-toed sloth is nothing but a bundle of leaves,and so is the brown-throated sloth.With her iron jaw and massive clitoris,the beauteous hyena is no more and no less than a Queen.The lion is the strangest of messengers, with his Tsar’s face, the chakra of his tail.Give him your full compliance.The swan bids the rain leave off with a swirl of her meekly-shaped wings.The oriole is an unimportant bird, but proud as a hornet.The winter-sleeper ignores the moon, and the two little toads.Only the mouse comes in with the blessing of God.

Penelope Shuttle, Noah’s Notes (Preliminary)

[chrisriddellblog]

Outgrown by Penelope Shuttle.