Narrative

My plot is laid outNaked, undergroundWhere the roots areWhere you sometimes stopOver your shovel, restingFrom labours of love.Or loving the labours thatBring home the apples,carrots and silencesFor a late-night salad.Twisting the story-line, i lieNeverendingly narratedBy flashbacks of what maybe wasJust an instrument to rakeThe dead leaves on the pathWe did not take.

Read More Narrative

to the wind

The wind was kind todayIt brought scraps of friedPotatoes and pork andRagged pieces of boom-boom musicWhile the chaffinch roaredAbout his love and sunshine to beWithin the next four hours.Today the wind was kindBringing fresh breaths of acacia,Dying lilac and chestnut petals,And a promise of something jasmineOr freshly drying grass very green.The children of starlings in […]

Read More to the wind

sixteen

an image of the fragrance of oregano, as i dream neverending pasta dreams, meat conspicuously absent, dragging with strings of cheese attached to spicy memories coughed up like too much anise or liquorice, sickly sweet, with a tinge of balsamic vinegar in their wake bitter recollections, reeking of things half-forgotten, intensely unforgiven and cold, cold […]

Read More sixteen

not back again

Call me Ishmael. None of us Will leave this place alive. This darkness will not end the tunnel Our heartbeats illuminate. These Steps close up the distance From one wall to another. Like So many stitches, out of time. And in the near-light one hears The sand-devils dance, rough Rotating quartz on your face and […]

Read More not back again

Tensions

A drop of rain-water Looks like a ball, waiting To crash, spread out, interrupt The tensions of its surface. As the sun slings low Cutting a slice of cloud-covered Gloom in half. Sea-gulls Flock together, orange on grey And crying. Who has forgotten The names we all grew into, Empty, meaningless notions, Chunks of mist, […]

Read More Tensions

lietū raudāt ir vieglāk

man bija trīs kastaņi, Tev — sauja ievziedu rūgtu; un mums pa vidu vasara, sutīga, nenoplūkta. griezes iespraucās augustā, pērkoni gāzās un gāzās, lauki jau kļuva zeltaini, kurmji svinēja kāzas… vienu velēnu zemāk, zem puķu sarautām saknēm, tur viņi nesaskārās, dziedāja, saskandinājās. starp tārpiem un trūdvielām lēnām pacēlās saskaņa. Man bija sauja kastaņu, Tev — […]

Read More lietū raudāt ir vieglāk

pēdas*

oktobŗa lietū ir kaut kas svēts. lapas sprēgā zem lāsēm, piepildās peļķes un slāpē zosu klaigas tur augstumos. siltā zeme ietinas miglās. vakari nodeg saulrietā, veļi nāk staigāt starp dzīviem, kāds elpo auksti pie vaiga. pamazītiņām mākoņi iztek kā domas asarās, velēnu zaļums ir mānīgs, salna velk sudraba stigu. tu neatnāksi. ne tagad. nosirmojušas pēdas […]

Read More pēdas*

Balošana

Manas cilts grāmatas Pēdējās lapās Daudz sarkanu pēdu: Kam četri pirksti, kam trīs, Ir pat kas velk tā uz vārnām. Medību pēdas un retas Saulrieta iedobes niedrājā — Sīki atzibšņi ūdeņu krēpēs, Vēja nospiedums ausmas rasā. Ko pēdas prasa. Palikt grāmatā vēl kādu Collu, vēl sprīdi, pirms To aizveŗ un pazaudē dubļos. Pāršķir vāku, iesējumā […]

Read More Balošana

the tree of life

  What if the real punishment for eating off that tree was not the death, but that we would not die so easily? That we would know of life, and breath and sunshine, rain, and love and joy, and the endless longing for that undiscover’d country, and we would possess our pain, hold it dearer […]

Read More the tree of life

Sinking

Scatter the ashes Where the snows used to be, Where the summers sang Full of bees, Scatter the ashes When it rains without rainbows, When the leaves are dry, Crushed underfoot, Let the grey fly As the violets blossom, As the black grouse Dance in the fields, Take up the gritty Coarse, unwieldy substance, All […]

Read More Sinking

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 […]

Read More headlights

june 3, 2019

Today he would have been 36. Three dozen years on this earth, under this sun. Who knows how life would have turned out, what his story would have been. We, who loved him, still do, I’m sure of it. We measure the time by his death: before he died, the year he died, after he […]

Read More june 3, 2019

green arches

Listen. Time passes. D. Thomas The green trajectory a leaf Leaves when floating to the floor, Cuts the air in arches. Time measures us all, Time allows us to fall Almost to the ground, and grinds Our memories for its tea. The green whispers in passing, Somersaulting through the landscape Of things that grow and […]

Read More green arches

Anguis fragilis. Slowworm.

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.

dandelion

Her head is white, sticking Out of the green and the grey; She stands tall, all hollow, All proud till All is ready, all set — And now she waits. Summer is coming, its winds Will dry the world, carry Her children to places She will never go, beyond The reach of the sight or […]

Read More dandelion

the drinking

In my dream, we make tea. Black, strong and smokey, Like a gun, full of promise. The liquid pours into cups, The aroma ascends, We breathe: Fingers cradling the hot, too hot fragile shells. The dragons will break out They will sing with fire, They will dance for us, with us Till our wits’ end. […]

Read More the drinking

no fear

the dead have no fear they have left their loves their hope and their glands with the rest of their frames here they have nothing to defend as the living raise voices and hands to sing towards their own end the battle’s been fought the victory or defeat now of no importance they lay down […]

Read More no fear

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 […]

Read More small floral petals

unpunctuated

empty, I resonate with the song of the trees when the white swans mutely pass high and northwards like a drum, tight and trembling I open my self to the stick that will percuss me and further my air to the other side I’ll roll empty along Ðunnor’s path the hard heaven above into the […]

Read More unpunctuated

in and out, and in, and out

the little pointy bits up and down, and in lunes the edge at the correct angle ground to perfection. a touch is all it takes your fingers dug into the sand under it it stung, dying, unconscious that it was seen, by the sea. for all it’s worth a jellyfish unaware of its own passing. […]

Read More in and out, and in, and out

Es aizeju jums vietu sataisīt

Tiem, kas lasa tikai latviski, šeit iekopēju uzrunu, ko teicu, tēvu mūžībā pavadot. Mana Tēva namā ir daudz mājokļu, saka Jēzus. Un es aizeju jums vietu sataisīt. (Jņ. 14) Pirms vēl pasaule bija, ir Vārds.  Dievišķais Darbības vārds, caur kuŗu, no kuŗa un uz kuŗu viss ir radīts. Meži ap mums, ezeri, jūŗas, mākoņi un […]

Read More Es aizeju jums vietu sataisīt

more memories

this is a time of memories. most of the memories, however, are not. well, they aren’t something i remember. now i m waiting for my brother to call me and tell me of the condition of my father. my father has refused to go to any hospital. he is also not so well. i will […]

Read More more memories

irreverently

that one thing for certain — all in existence stands firm against passing — like buttercups in the middle of streams transient, fragile, willing to do what it takes to survive. little yellow-headed stalks breaking the running crystal, etching the neverending V for Vita brevis est, for victory, for the day when silence burns sunlight. […]

Read More irreverently

the glass does not hear

the little wooden man beats both fists at the wall. attention. attention. the glass is too thick. the soundless things outside do not wave back, do not move. silence. silence. the glass covers all. time moves in a circular dance of stars in the night and the trees. be blind. do not see. the glass […]

Read More the glass does not hear