(marginalia vitae)
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 sixteenWitch-hunt. In time of darkness, or simple murkiness, people envy those who see. This envy might take different forms, from the polite venomous, ‘of course you know better,’ to the outrightly open ‘kill the witch’. The people, the internet trolls, the scathing commenters, the ones who simply have nowhere to vent their steam are summarily […]
Read More Twelveunlike the wonderful Sylvia Plath, i sometimes think i’d like to be a tree. I’d like to be , well, no, not vertical (that too, of course), but a tree. so i wrote this: maybe i am a tree between the up there and down here, and down some more. like a spruce, my roots […]
Read More SevenReverberate With the small blind shoot That seeks the sun. Reverberate With the call of geese Returning home. Tune in to cherries Budding forth, unknowing Of fragility. Reverberate With the heartstrings of the cats Singing love. Reverberate With the fat full moon Counting time. Break out and grow With humble snowdrops Poised to sing. Reverberate […]
Read More to be hummed, with the dawn, in the first dew of springbuilding bridges. so simple: this is This Side, and that be the Other Side. find material(s) appropriate to (the) circumstance(s) or is it environment? maybe finances? well, who actually cares, find it, be done. make plans. consider all parties involved, this side and that, and forget about the river itself or the life therein. bridges […]
Read More imperativesA 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 Tensionsoktobŗa 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*You know what they say about those who use green ink? Should I say – yes- she thought, all the words emerald. I’d have to research that, she nodded, words verdant and flourishing, sprouting a maze in her head. Green. The colour of death — Of the plants foraging for corpses with their toesies. The […]
Read More Green inkWhat 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 lifeA butterfly drinks His only summer from bluebells. So subtle, so velvet his wings, The wind stops and draws A deepest breath. On that side of the multiverse Rainforest listens, Glaciers get ready, Piranhas sharpen their teeth. Only the white bones on a sunlit beach Remember no hurricanes.
Read More FragilitiesScatter 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 Sinkingthe 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 fearRudens kā rudens Ziema kā ziema Pat vasara iekļaujas ritmā Vien pavasaris Kā aptracis dīgsts Lien laukā pa visām spraugām. Dzimšanas kliedziens, Dubļi, Pērnās smiltis Un vājprāta spīdums acīs, Ugunsdzēsēju darbi Novācot kaķus kokos, Strazdu lamas un sīku Putniņu dejas Pirms Pilna ligzda dzeltenu brēcošu mutu, Un kļavas zied zaļi Kamēr zīlītes salasa Badainās bites. […]
Read More Kad nerīmējasi 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 petalsThe readings are here. Silences. So much can be said about silences. First of all, because silences are, well,… silent. They do not speak back. There are silences huge as houses, and silences so tiny they go unnoticed. There are awkward silences and companionable silences. The elephant in the room, and shared happiness. The silence […]
Read More Ambassadors in silenceI have this against the world, one white bird, cut in the indigo sky, changing, banking left and write in the wind that feels nothing. One white bird, an avian denominator, coming forth between then and here to steer straight into the sun and burn. Cut in the indigo sky, changing the music of planes, […]
Read More subtly againstKārklu 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 […]
Read More mazas baltas gaismiņas*The readings are here (NRSV). The most annoying things in the multiverse are the small things. The most comforting things in the multiverse are the small things. A grain of sand in one’s eye, for instance. Or that grain of sand (together with its many, many relatives) on an icy pavement. Or the sound of […]
Read More Grow established in the Lord (by little things)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 unpunctuatedthe 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 outas the custom is, here i’ll post the title and first two sentences of the blog posts over this year (2018). let’s see how that goes. January TRANSLATING VERTICALITY I am Vertical by Sylvia Plath Es stāvu uz augšu But I would rather be horizontal. Bet ļoti gribas būt šķērsām. February CHOICES tea or coffe? […]
Read More This year in poststāpēc, ka bija balts, vārnas saēdās sāli; no vadiem pelēki skaitījās zvirbuļu koŗi. neaiztiec balto, nevajag — kaut kā sanāca noklusēt; vārnas salēca aplītī, aizrautīgi ķērkdamas. gaisā pajuka mākoņi: baloži ieradās miglā, apkārt drudžaini kasījās, nesaprata, ka nomirs. agrāk vai vēlāk, nāc putnus barot vai baidīt — pēdas sniegā un spārnu raksti tiem apkārt ieliks […]
Read More zvirbuļu koŗithis 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 memoriesUzraksti mani otrādi Ar krītu uz pelēkas tāfeles Dienā kad avoti kurina Miglu bezlapu ielejās Spoguļrakstā ievelc Visas diakritiskās zīmes Kamēr vārnas ķērkuļo Zarus ligzdās pīdamas Visu pilnīgi ačgārni Saber kā papīra turzā Dienā, kad gulbji aizlido Sniegu nākotnē brēkdami Lai turzas saturu sakratot Pēkšņi izmainās sintakse Kamēr strazdi kladzina Tumsā kašķīgi skriedami Uzraksti mani […]
Read More inversijasKad debesu svins miltos pārtop, Kad domas slīd, slepeni kāšos kārdamās, un aizplēn nenosauktas — Egles un vientuļi vītoli pastiepj mūžīgu zaļumu iepretim blāvu mākoņu atspulgiem. Vēl solis. Veļi veļas kamolos, kopus nes sniega putekļos tumšu zemeņu smaržu (ak, piedegušās vasaras). Nāc, teci kā malduguns atmiņu purvājos, visus akačos aizvildams, kamēr debesu dzirnas maļ, maļ, […]
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