green peppered with white

the clouds shook, the green hair of the sod got peppered with white, — and then only the tips, green over grey, stiff in the breeze, unmoving. the knife in my hands, sticky with what oranges produce, the sharp spray in my nostrils, stopping, for a moment, what revolves in the dark. i open mīn […]

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Malduguns

Kad debesu svins miltos pārtop, Kad domas slīd, slepeni kāšos kārdamās, un aizplēn nenosauktas — Egles un vientuļi vītoli pastiepj mūžīgu zaļumu iepretim blāvu mākoņu atspulgiem. Vēl solis. Veļi veļas kamolos, kopus nes sniega putekļos tumšu zemeņu smaržu (ak, piedegušās vasaras). Nāc, teci kā malduguns atmiņu purvājos, visus akačos aizvildams, kamēr debesu dzirnas maļ, maļ, […]

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not raining too much

tremor. black fingers extend from hands broken at the end of dark arms, limbs, crowded by fallen leaves, unattached, doomed to flopping along as the wind sings, threshing the empty floors. again. beat black fingers from broken hands against the dark limbs outstretched onto the pale mists sheathing silent moonrays. Once more. faintly grow into […]

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mēnessdārzs

tulznainām rokām, miglu locīdams, šonakt mēness iestāda dārzu. koku kailumam, rudens gājumam tumsā dzied mākoņu skrējiens. švīku švīkādams, lapas mētādams, šonakt vējš pagalmos bizo. ledus kristālos, sīki kaisītos, pelēka gaisma vizuļo. nobristām kājām, tīti dūmakā, veļi šonakt atceļu meklē. sveci iededzis, uguni piesedzis, atveŗu sirdi par dakti. šonakt mēness iestāda dārzu, šonakt vējš pagalmos bizo, […]

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irreverently

that one thing for certain — all in existence stands firm against passing — like buttercups in the middle of streams transient, fragile, willing to do what it takes to survive. little yellow-headed stalks breaking the running crystal, etching the neverending V for Vita brevis est, for victory, for the day when silence burns sunlight. […]

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before coffee

bacon and eggs on the table I stare at all the forks and the knives None fits. the radio blares through from whatever neighbours cook All Russian. enmugged coffee vapes at me promising clarity, haven, and tells Strong smell. someone bangs their door early out in the morning mists Sun’s head.

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maranatha

Adverbum sum, my love, an adverb, modified by countless acts of being seen, and truth, and those who walked the path before me. Made right by the verb, I exist, to be — not taken seriously unless the action is performed in your perception. Ad te sum, my love, you breathe my life, sparkling, sprinkling, […]

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Burning

Under the binary star  Of I-love-you // you-do-not-exist, grass grew unchecked, disturbed within the confines of all those colours. The little wooden man sat At a rock scored by the wind, and grass rose high and waved wildly above like an eternal hand. Between the now and tomorrow White leaves flourished, rustling as steps advanced […]

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exotically grey

There! A nuthatch flourishes  Like something exotic High above the brown and the black of the trees. His song is thrilled About small worms and big challenges: To feed. To be warm. To seek Life above all things. Blue, grey and nicely orange, Sing, sing and cling To the branch upside down — Dive deep […]

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potato remembrances

They stole my birthdays Buried, unearthed, blind In the ripped sod, they Lied to everyone. So important The whole world stopped To pick them up. When the light is just so, And a whiff of wood- smoke is not scattered Among the leaves about to die, They come back to haunt me, Raw, dirt-covered and […]

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star-sharpened stones

As stones sit In the dusty autumn grass, I can see them grow, Give birth to stars. Once a volcano’s heart, They crystallised, And broke and went Out to be quarried. Now they catch Onto the sun’s heat and joy With freshly-cut prisms And inlets of quartz. Transparent, ready to jump At the first inkling […]

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Rudens kā rudens

Rudens kā rudens; Rudenām šķipsnām Iešalcas lapas Zaļganām maliņām — Čukstu čauksti sabirst Pelēkā zālē. Saule neizbalē, Tā pārzied Dzeltenās kļavās, tā Sabirzt piecstūŗa plēksnēs Un aizplakš mums garām. Rudens kā rudens, Oranžām malām Zilu dūmaku tālumā.

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to Him of the hosts of heaven

I love you. You make the leaves Glow yellow in the lamplight Whilst all the city hastens From work, and towards home and death That doth us part. I love you. You attach Five-pointed flattened gems To shine under the light- polluted sky above us all So dark and distant. I love you. You stop […]

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droplets of sun

Standing under the yellow maples in October rain Is like standing inside the sun — only cold, but the light is there; The rain splatters, the leatherly leaves crackle and sing, And depart like little comets melting nowhere; The grey of the sky becomes less low and oppressed As if the leaves filtered out All that is dim […]

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Thoughts on ‘The Flying Dutchman’ as Sung in the LNO on 30 September 2018

The Latvian National Opera strikes again. Opera consists of so many things. The getting-to. The Audience. The Dark Silence whilst the orchestra plays the overture. This time someone had taken the audience in consideration and showed little Roman numbers of the actual Acts of the play up front so people could follow the major themes […]

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underpinned

Let me select, From a list, uninterrupted, A sheet of moonlit rain, Add hail And welcome you to the darker days. The leatherly leaves Have left, unrecovered, Their posts up high And blackbirds Compete with starlings and crows. Untie my eyes So that we see, unchallenged The song of going under, And stay Still amongst […]

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Question

I asked God what was going on. He asked me a question: Why do you think the resurrected Christ still has the open wounds? Why indeed. Now I am thinking.

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