Reading (in) the dark

Do you read in the dark? Signs and sigils of those Who knew the songs long ago, Who took their life’s blood To etch their story in stone? In the dark, do you read The subtle slides in meaning Between what was and what Might have been, a scale For a multiplex symphony? You in […]

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The longing

My soul longs, indeed it faints for the courts of the Lord (Ps. 84.2) All great things start with longing: a longing for home, longing for love, longing for justice, longing for peace and simple, understandable life, longing for… First, to establish borders of this discourse: What is longing and what is its place in […]

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unspoken

i’ll speak of recipes, autumn tang in the air, the first yellow strands in the birch-green, starling songs inappropriately sharp for the time of the year; of all small things packed with the promise of bigness, significant only because it’s a background to the elephant not in the room; i will discuss pottery, maybe, poetry, […]

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of gods and cats

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who […]

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Samson

When it rains, The little cat sits in the window, Watching. The choices are ours to make And some are honest mistakes Like the rain falling in sheets. He does not know how Vapour rises, how long It takes for the clouds to grow heavy. The love we fall for, that Strikes like lightning, so […]

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pietura naktī

Klausījos, kā vilciens nolaižas uz sliedēm; te mana pietura – naktī, kaķu dziesmās un putnu aurēšanā. Liepas piejauca medus smaržu sikspārņu dejām; kad tevi vairs negaida, atliec sīknagus vecas mājas spārēs, Jasmīnu ziedlapas putēja nesakārtoti, viss krustu šķērsu rakstos, lietus iesistos pelēkā zemes palagā. Ko tava uguns gribēja, tumsā plaiksnīdama? Nepratu salasīt, ai, neprāta mīlestība […]

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dry spell

Sometimes we snap. Like dry branches, like frost, And bury the others with us. Chips from a lightning-struck oak, Splinters of pine, unruly cones All in a heap, rushed To a conflagration. Sometimes the ragged Edges know only to tear, And heal all crooked. Flames lick at the dark Fluid inkiness Stabbed with stars And […]

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