unpunctuated

empty, I resonate with the song of the trees when the white swans mutely pass high and northwards like a drum, tight and trembling I open my self to the stick that will percuss me and further my air to the other side I’ll roll empty along Ðunnor’s path the hard heaven above into the […]

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by your word

stretch out your hand reach out through the blind wall that surrounds the sandy beach in a snowstorm that might or might not be your innermost being your heart: a fisherman tired beyond description of eternal washing of nets dead fish and seaweed rotten birds and shells and plain simple dirt tired of catching the […]

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infinities dance

Your left, my right, Shadows play, Stretch out a hand — Stomp. Up and down remain Relatively the same, Your right, my left, Whatever it is, is Not a shadow, truth — Breathe. Talk to them Through mirrors, You will need at least Two. One will invert, One will turn back, and so to infinity […]

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at Güstrow

polished pollen shy away from mother catkins to greet the starlings thronging above, round and round, fresh from the stars that bore them dancing through late winter each unaware of the other and so engage with the copper beeches unable to shed their seed as the autumn fell to early flutter along the willow’s white […]

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carnivores wear pink

The sun at an angle to the slowly revolving earth, she sits pink on a street-lamp all posed, dark wingtips neatly crossed, eyes straight ahead. The wind whirls some snow and untidies the ground: a glint of something fur-frozen, a glimpse of something worth possessing — Heart, bent on conquest, gives stretch to the wings, […]

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Ziema kā ziema

Ir tālums blāvs Un debess gaiši zila, Un koku pirksti Sarmā balti stāv Vēl vēja nav, Un saule slīpiem stariem No sniega atlec Priežu skujās degt Tu taku min Un zilas pēdas paliek Starp kūlas kušķiem Sērsna trausla dzinkst Un nerūp vairs Ne līčloči, ne virziens Kad soli solī Brienu taviem līdz Kur tālums blāvs […]

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Pale green and orange

Pale green, then orange Flash upon black. Something white flutters — The ground is touched. The ground trembles Ever so slightly, to open The eyes of tulip-tubers And daffodils, snowdrops And those little seeds forgotten By sparrows and the occasional squirrel. Orange is not true, only Grown under a glass roof In a micro-world, attended […]

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cup half–

the sky was undercast, the weather suddenly clement, couth birds chirped underhead and crows were so caring. trees, inrooted by ages threw down witness in standstill dressed their branches in nothing, eyes widely shut. some gainly adolescents shared a pipe of war, snowdrops looked on-white whilst the first shoots turned purple like the sun setting […]

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branching

do I grow in my sleep deeper into you, my end, my beginning? do my roots shoot right where you are, my earth and my minerals? does my night reflect your bright nuclear combustion? when I grow deeper roots into you, my beginning, my truth.

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ziemas pusē

Mīļo viking*, nu beidzot Arī šai pusē ziema. Velk tāds kā zempūtis Visur — no jumtiem Pār ielām un krūmiem Un apaļiem zvirbuļiem Nārsta vārnām un vientuļiem Kraukļiem — pulverīgs baltums. Sniegu laukumos smaržo pēc apsēm Egles pilnas ar sarmu Tikai pelēkais paliek Cauri puteņa līčloču rakstiem Un zīlītes dzied tur augšā Ozola zaros tik […]

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a pale view of gulls

it’s snowing again making the sky pale some featherly, some finely ground flakes obscure the antics of all the world’s seagulls rejoicing in flight white on white, and grey upon grey outlined by black pinions the gulls soar avoiding the descent of criss-cross crystals whilst the very indistinct crows hold on to the weeping branches […]

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metaphysically speaking

this is a fictional place it does not exist in the real world, no you have to enter through platform Imagination, 3/4 of unreality. walk right at the border between what you see and what is, close your unbelief firmly and step into adventure 5/4 within your heart. and now, open up to the light […]

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in and out, and in, and out

the little pointy bits up and down, and in lunes the edge at the correct angle ground to perfection. a touch is all it takes your fingers dug into the sand under it it stung, dying, unconscious that it was seen, by the sea. for all it’s worth a jellyfish unaware of its own passing. […]

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This year in posts

as the custom is, here i’ll post the title and first two sentences of the blog posts over this year (2018). let’s see how that goes. January TRANSLATING VERTICALITY I am Vertical by Sylvia Plath Es stāvu uz augšu But I would rather be horizontal. Bet ļoti gribas būt šķērsām. February CHOICES tea or coffe? […]

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Es aizeju jums vietu sataisīt

Tiem, kas lasa tikai latviski, šeit iekopēju uzrunu, ko teicu, tēvu mūžībā pavadot. Mana Tēva namā ir daudz mājokļu, saka Jēzus. Un es aizeju jums vietu sataisīt. (Jņ. 14) Pirms vēl pasaule bija, ir Vārds.  Dievišķais Darbības vārds, caur kuŗu, no kuŗa un uz kuŗu viss ir radīts. Meži ap mums, ezeri, jūŗas, mākoņi un […]

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the days will grow longer

the trees wore white like brides of the hoarfrost, standing tall under the veil of the pale cloud-intoned sky. not only the pines, birches and maples, and lindens, and aspens, even the spruces had dressed their hands in white spikes to pierce the shorter days of the year. an unobtrusive sun peeked over the treeline […]

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(untitled) or mute

As I took my father’s hand in mine, I was stricken how similar the hands were. His hand, rough from work, and scarred, and damaged by the explosives after the war, when he was too inquisitive. My hands, scarred, a little rough and fingerless from being too inquisitive 29 years later. There was a large […]

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into that good night

tō niht mīn fadir for-ferðe. God is merciful. yesterday i thought of Dylan Thomas’ Do not go gentle into that good night: how true to the wind that poem sailed. And now, to the funeral arrangements.

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adeste, be present

God waits. In His world the time is. In our world, the time flows. His is the tide, and ours, the time. The ancient is tomorrow. God waits for the perfect moment in our rivers of time, to sink in his fishing line. God waits alongside our imperfect flows of time for the perfect ripple […]

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zvirbuļu koŗi

tāpēc, ka bija balts, vārnas saēdās sāli; no vadiem pelēki skaitījās zvirbuļu koŗi. neaiztiec balto, nevajag — kaut kā sanāca noklusēt; vārnas salēca aplītī, aizrautīgi ķērkdamas. gaisā pajuka mākoņi: baloži ieradās miglā, apkārt drudžaini kasījās, nesaprata, ka nomirs. agrāk vai vēlāk, nāc putnus barot vai baidīt — pēdas sniegā un spārnu raksti tiem apkārt ieliks […]

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more memories

this is a time of memories. most of the memories, however, are not. well, they aren’t something i remember. now i m waiting for my brother to call me and tell me of the condition of my father. my father has refused to go to any hospital. he is also not so well. i will […]

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clatter

when you slipped,  the roof went off unpredictably leaving a large chunk uncovered. your trousers ripped, letting in the cold, wet whiteness which wanted to freeze, too. what a soundless feat — the mist twirled hungrily, ready to swallow you whole. the ground was quicker. it took you in with a thud and there, bushy-tailed, […]

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dust

Like diamonds, you Threw ice crystals in the air For the sun to illuminate And play with rainbows. I stopped in my tracks, Unknowing, out of breath, Blinded. Your wind ran wild Making the twigs and branches Shed small icicles all over And the ground turned frosty. I blinked, it was a first Love uncovered, […]

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inversijas

Uzraksti mani otrādi  Ar krītu uz pelēkas tāfeles Dienā kad avoti kurina Miglu bezlapu ielejās Spoguļrakstā ievelc Visas diakritiskās zīmes Kamēr vārnas ķērkuļo Zarus ligzdās pīdamas Visu pilnīgi ačgārni Saber kā papīra turzā Dienā, kad gulbji aizlido Sniegu nākotnē brēkdami Lai turzas saturu sakratot Pēkšņi izmainās sintakse Kamēr strazdi kladzina Tumsā kašķīgi skriedami Uzraksti mani […]

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