mazas baltas gaismiņas*

Kārklu pelēkie zari audzē sīkas baltas gaismiņas miklā muklāju miglā pīles skrien prīkšķēdamas. Nav tā, ka dienās un arī naktīs ir vieglāk; nāk mēneši balti, nāk logā asi izgriezti putni; kļavās būvējas žagatu pāŗi – jau trešie mūsu rajonā. Ko viņas zags, kad atnāks mazie, un saule spēlēsies siltos staros? Migla daudz biežāk aizdūmo jumtus […]

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a star unrepentant

a pale star through the benighted branches blurred by lack of glasses i breathe four point three below zero and blink out of order where the crows sleep secretly black shadows on black, their dreams contagious, simple, crawling with edible garbage in plenty more steps over the brittle dead leaves smell like so many autumns […]

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melodious monday

for whatever reason, this crept to the surface of my mind, maddened by metaphors (and the rest of the stylistic analysis nomenclature): the sound is a little tinny, but the spirit is captured perfectly.

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funeral coffee

the kitchen is ever dark, and cold, and cave-like, and sombre. starting the fire, on gas or in the cooking range. the quiet determinism of those present in the house for the morning. the smell of sadness, the unspoken collectiveness of all people waiting. the setting-up of the pots, the pouring of water, the measuring […]

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the dragon and the grass

grass…it all turns into grass. it takes everything. see, how all is grown over. it takes everything. the grass comes up in the spring, and withers in autumn, but its roots keep the memory of the past. just listen…it is all there – in those roots.

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exp +360

and again. for the past nights, i have been dreaming of losing her again. or not losing. it all is so confusing. my rational mind tells me- all that could have been lost, has been [lost], and there is nothing, nothing at all to be done about it. my body memory, morphic memory, tells me that something […]

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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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it was muggy the whole day. then it rained. and now, the wild plums and crab apples, and all those blossoming things stand in the suddenly not-so-emerald grass, up to their knees in wispy mist. do trees have knees? they must, once we say that they stand. the ent-ish chestnuts have produced their sheathed candles, […]

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