at Güstrow

polished pollen shy away from mother catkins to greet the starlings thronging above, round and round, fresh from the stars that bore them dancing through late winter each unaware of the other and so engage with the copper beeches unable to shed their seed as the autumn fell to early flutter along the willow’s white […]

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a pale view of gulls

it’s snowing again making the sky pale some featherly, some finely ground flakes obscure the antics of all the world’s seagulls rejoicing in flight white on white, and grey upon grey outlined by black pinions the gulls soar avoiding the descent of criss-cross crystals whilst the very indistinct crows hold on to the weeping branches […]

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the days will grow longer

the trees wore white like brides of the hoarfrost, standing tall under the veil of the pale cloud-intoned sky. not only the pines, birches and maples, and lindens, and aspens, even the spruces had dressed their hands in white spikes to pierce the shorter days of the year. an unobtrusive sun peeked over the treeline […]

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clatter

when you slipped,  the roof went off unpredictably leaving a large chunk uncovered. your trousers ripped, letting in the cold, wet whiteness which wanted to freeze, too. what a soundless feat — the mist twirled hungrily, ready to swallow you whole. the ground was quicker. it took you in with a thud and there, bushy-tailed, […]

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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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thought of today

There comes a time that people get tired of being trampled over by the iron feet of oppression. There comes a time when people get tired of being pushed out of the glittering sunlight of life’s July and left standing amidst the piercing chill of an Alpine November. The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.

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trivia

behind the sunglasses you wore your tired eyes; reflections of sparrows mated vehemently across the space of fresh minted sunshine. the wetly-thawed earth was fragrant with emerald moss. starlings chirped darkly, looking for morning worms under the din of the city. i saw you sitting alone, at a crowded bus-stop. the traffic went by unrestrained […]

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the ultimate test*

death is the ultimate test – it is irreversible, a one-way-only gate, a membrane that filters you out and then returns to its stillness. death is both never and near, certain and so unknown that those who live the illusion of total control spend their days in fear. the ultimate test, where the win or the […]

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breathlessly follow

in a world of duplicity, the cherry blossoms flutter like something unearthly, we stop, and watch the silent destruction, all in pinks and whites, and greens of the grass that will commemorate our oblivion.

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understatement

so there are those three philologists and one teacher sitting and eating something…let’s say, soup. the first philologist finds the soup over-salted and says: “this is a little salty, don’t you think.” the second philologist agrees to the first and says: “you are a queen of understatement.” the third philologist adds: “yeah, she has her moments.” there […]

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six – the colour white

white reflects all light. so the thought of purity and so on is a little far-fetched, yet many still adhere to it. white does not allow anything too close to contaminate it. it is the colour of aloofness. and yet – when the white snow covers the mud and the little (and the gross) indiscretions […]

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the cicada and god

the cicada does not care about the years down underground for those three months of play and an exit, and another world, creation and death – all in one. his song transcends his night and day, weather and sunshine alike, spicing up the moments before all will be covered in browns and reds, and cold […]

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last night

last night i was listening to the maple trees outside my window how they created a multicolour susurrus in the dark discussing the latest fashion of the stars and the music of birds of flight as the moon peeked cautiously over the margin of the treeline, hidden by the blocks of flats.

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