Minotaur on the Moortops


He tries to sink back through the earth,

Through iridescent slips of schist,

To where the rock can douse his eyes,

Quench fire of sight, dull iris light.


The space – which counts the stars as months,

And judges time by shadow falls –

where lives can howl and show their age.

Each tick of sun and moon: a death


Up here, where echoes never start,

He lays down low and feels through peat

The rocks beneath, the subtle heat,

The walls where blood is merged with night.


Unfreed, unbound, and lost beyond:

The air is thin and spiked with sound.



4 Comments to “Minotaur on the Moortops”

  1. I like that … spiked with sound.

    I’ve always wanted to visit the Moors, ever since I read about the Bronte sisters and their environment. It called to me. Funny, at age 12, Jane Eyre was my favorite book. Now, it’s Wuthering Heights. 🙂

    I like the words you choose. 🙂

  2. Such a lyrical poem, loved it!

  3. This poem and all the poems in your Minotaur series are beautiful and haunting in their language and rhythm and in their images and insights. I love the way they are all thematically related but also varied in their point of view, the ways they get at the big things they explore. And love too the way they are both mythic and local. Hearing “Freedom” and “Ariadne” voiced really enhanced “hearing” them as I read. And right now, I am looking forward to re-reading them!

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