Leonora Carrington, Along the needle of my heart

My tastes are catholic rebellious,
can alchemise the world into another strangeness
more than clocks
are riddled into or can dream on
sensibilities of the uncanny.
I am
another animal drawn away by magic
from tremors in the night into our
intellectual powers not sexual but
tribal, ancient, plumbago, ivy,
sacred as hyenas
of the fertile night or horses rocking
into rebirth beyond the looking glass
reflects reality more than the real;
arcane, hermetic can be the everyday
of cooking, living, knitting themselves
into myths unravelling like tales of fairies
seen by childish eyes of great age that
close themselves
to the imaged world
that made me blind
to busybodies,
took my precious loneliness from me
to see and see and lead me here
along the needle in my heart
with its clear thread of old blood
and danger never lost
to be

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