and now he has moved on. a tribute to a poet, a national consciousness, a man who had barbs and a heart to love

he formed the definition of what poet is, in my world. and how to see the world. Imants Ziedonis. The Master of Clarity. Passed on to the next world on this day. i am happy he did. and i hurt, as a poet and as a latvian. let his journey be light. you will have […]

Read More and now he has moved on. a tribute to a poet, a national consciousness, a man who had barbs and a heart to love

epic yet again

dear diary, we have not talked for some time, and here i am, all the same. so, i had this … encounter with snow-covered ice and concrete on sunday.

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the taste of home

Vera Polozkova writes голова полна детского неба, розовеющего едва. наблюдаешь, как боль, утратив свои права, вынимается прочь из тела, словно из тесного рукава. хорошо через сто лет вернуться домой с войны, обнаружить, что море слушается луны, травы зелены, и что как ты ни бился с миром, всё устояло, кроме разве что сердца матери, выцветшего от […]

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this made me smile

bbc horizon: what is reality the most mysterious rule of  reality: the fact that  the quantum bits stop doing two things at once as soon as they are observed; the quantumness of reality is apparently very sensitive. so, folks, do not observe those who try doing two things at once. you will lose the job […]

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monday, february 18

got up at 5 tried to work went to bed at 6 was woken at 8 do not remember what i said someone else called at half nine i think i sent them somewhere, hopefully politely fell asleep at 10 or so got up at 11 started the laundry fell back in my bed totally […]

Read More monday, february 18

upon seeing a reflection in the calm waters under a bridge, and the said reflection having no original

es tevi redzu atspulgā zem tilta starp nobirušām rudens lapām stāvi un ūdens rāms un saule zāli silda pa vidu sīkvējam kas dzeloņplūmēs apklust tik kaili zari skatam nav kur palikt vien debesīs ar gāju putniem palot es tevi redzu atspulgā zem tilta tu mani elpo sen jau nomirušo

Read More upon seeing a reflection in the calm waters under a bridge, and the said reflection having no original

colours

another drop of ink in my bloodstream one day i will change and billow blue over pages of my undescribed world like a blot of thought dissolving in a basin of memory all clear all unforgotten strands of vapour wrapped in mist.

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i could not resist

unfortunately i do not have the technical ingenuity that has produced this and we do not get this sort of woodpecker either. but the normal, common, black-and-white-and-red woodpecker did visit my bird feeder. i liked him very much.

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shadows

frying chicken today (another epic event, resulting in a huge burn on my wrist), i suddenly had this memory-vision. of my maternal grandmother frying chicken, on the old wood stove, and us – my brother and me – waiting. i do not remember my mother’s mother very well. i do not have stories she told. […]

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communication protocols

doubt. some say it is the driving force of progress. or the middle way between faith and taking offence. or the mother of whatever it is doubt could be the mother of. tonight i just do not know. i do not even know if i doubt… i doubt even this.

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understatement

so there are those three philologists and one teacher sitting and eating something…let’s say, soup. the first philologist finds the soup over-salted and says: “this is a little salty, don’t you think.” the second philologist agrees to the first and says: “you are a queen of understatement.” the third philologist adds: “yeah, she has her moments.” there […]

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īsumā par to, kāpēc ir vērts rakstīt ne pārāk saprotamu dzeju

es norakstu tās atmiņas no sevis nost. ar saulēm un ar sausām (atv)asarām, ar slapjiem puteņiem un vēlām lazdu skarām, un pazaudētiem suņiem, ugunskuriem un noklusētu strīdu, ārpus laika es norakstu tās atmiņas no sevis nost. jo citādi tu mani izlasīsi- kā sēklas, kuŗas izbeŗ pelnos, un dzīves ķirbis pārvērtīsies atspeŗratos un nozags neaizmirsto, aprīs […]

Read More īsumā par to, kāpēc ir vērts rakstīt ne pārāk saprotamu dzeju

kā reizēm gadās uztrāpīt uz cilvēka lappušu malām, un baložu vietā sirds vēstules nez kāpēc pārnēsā dzēse (jo baloži vienkārši nav pārāk inteliģenti)

uz malām, mēs toreiz rakstījām uz malām un neatgriešanos, kad vēja pusē salām mūs gārņi ievīla. uz malām un vienā laidā, tā bez kādām šuvēm no rokām vien mēs ugunskuri kļuvām uz neatgriešanos. kā dzēses ūdensrozēs mēs lapas sagriezām, kas tika tev, kas – man, to neizlasīt kartupeļu grozos. uz malām mēs rakstījām no paša […]

Read More kā reizēm gadās uztrāpīt uz cilvēka lappušu malām, un baložu vietā sirds vēstules nez kāpēc pārnēsā dzēse (jo baloži vienkārši nav pārāk inteliģenti)