John, these are not from day consciousness, but from the hinterland. Like Cameron, I was thinking of primary words like soil and root. It's a wonder to see this kind of work that is not tied to logical rationality, and yet is clear as rainwater as it pursues its dream logic.
I'm able to fully enter both poems. I love the conluding part of Winter Knows when the boy is in the canoe and the animals come out.
If I had to chose a favourite, it might be Walnuts Out of Their Shells. I have special deep memories of a walnut tree that have become part of my mythic imagination. Maybe that's why this poem holds me. I see Matt has queried "she held walnuts out of their shells", and I take his point, and am still unsure if it effects my overall sense of things. The part of the walnut inside the shell is called the kernel. I don't know if this word would work in the same way.
To get such dream stuff onto a page without breaking it requires a soft touch. Dream images are powerful, and they become fragile when one tries to bring them to the light. This is why poets have to find another language.
And you are working in another language now, John. I can only echo David: keep going.
Cally
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