(marginalia vitae)
The sand has lost all colour. No, maybe it is the colour Of small, sharp stones that Make up gravel so simply. Yes, the colour of the sharp, Grey, cold and merciful. Her song went unheard. She And the sand now are intimate. Intimate much more than one desires. Grey, cold and so sharp that […]
Read More Anguis fragilis. Slowworm.vējš parauj smiltis un pērnās lapas un kūlas stiebrus vecos kapos un kopto pagalmu kaktos, kur kaķi, vārnas un lustīgi sīļi svin pavasari starp gandrīz dīgstošām zīlēm, snieg- pulkstenēm un dažiem purpura krokusiem puspavērtiem. virpuļo sīkumi, skaidas saskaitās pulkos, pārlec žogiem, dzīviem un stiepļu rombiņos sapītiem, vīnogu- lāju noklātām zvirbuļu laktām, aizšvīkst līdz strazdu amata […]
Read More ko vairs atceros*My kid brother died Aug 2, 2005. This is his lay. This too is his lay, only written as a scene for a Creative non-fiction workshop on Aug 2, 2018, inspired by the excellent Inara Verzemnieks, a professor extraordinaire. (and the only person who has ever praised me for writing silences, which has perplexed me). […]
Read More A beer candeath is efficient. what else shall i say – it is efficient to the last minute detail. which makes it … deadly, i guess. or welcome, if one knows of its coming, and knows its purpose – to release the living from the burden of life. Terry Pratchett is among my favourite authors, together with […]
Read More upon the event of death of Terry Pratchettwatching films and people use gravestones (graves) as the point of focus (or reference) of talking to their loved ones who have passed on, i wonder: why go to the places of decomposed bodies to talk to one’s loved… do not people carry them inside themselves, always, ever?
Read More that bit about where we keep our dead loved oneseven when death is but passing, it towers and looms over the traveller home; the things important on the linear path get brushed under the quiet rock, the immense carpet made by transcendent hands; death is but passing – you know it, and i, and yet we stay
Read More comparativelyturpat pie celiņa, it kā aizmidzis, zālīti apsedzies, kaķīts atlaidies; pelēka vilniņa, viss melnās strīpiņās, dzeltena pakakle, pusviru actiņas- guļ kā tāds plausītis. zīlīte atnāca, zvirbulīts pieleca, ne ķepa nekustas; tepat viņš staigāja, draudziņu meklēja, murrāt murrāja, cilvēku gaidīja; rītiņa agrumā apstājās sirsniņa, mauriņa lizdiņā, kaķentiņš aizmiga.
Read More kad dzirkstele aizlec