headlights

the red blotch on the asphalt was not. could not be. red. more of the grey. grainy and rough, like a dead puddle. the road-marks kept silence and shone in the dark till the cars all left and their headlights with them. in the dark, all red is black. what will remain when/as the liquid […]

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between the mud and the blue

Up to my ankles in pollen, floating in recent puddles, whilst grumpy grandchildren watch, restrained by frantic grammas, I laugh. To be grown-up sometimes means to step into puddles and smell roses and jump to a tune played inside your own head. I laugh, and walk into rain envied by children, seen by the shuddering […]

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small floral petals

i might be gone, but the sand and the blades of grass remember my steps and my song, and the small things i lost from my pockets: loose buttons and scraps of wrapping or chewing-gum, occasional chestnuts and leaves almost crumbled. now the trees have me, their roots sucking up minerals that made up my […]

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Divine horticulture

The reading is here. There is no nice way to say this. We are all going to die. And that is that. Lent is a little about thirst and hunger. People discuss what they may eat and what not, how to fast and why, compare notes and feelings. And people want to know — or […]

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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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contest

green, black, round, fragrant, sweet — unattached, ready to roll. between your fingers, almost bursting — thin skin, juicy, small. pick them up one by one, lift — firmly, not letting go. they will obey, each one in its place — collapse in agony, bleed. onto your tongue, simple sugars, sap — nutrients you need. […]

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by your word

stretch out your hand reach out through the blind wall that surrounds the sandy beach in a snowstorm that might or might not be your innermost being your heart: a fisherman tired beyond description of eternal washing of nets dead fish and seaweed rotten birds and shells and plain simple dirt tired of catching the […]

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