when years pass, and still

my child,i hardly know where our paths crossed.or did they? i forgetthe careful feeding, the hourscounted by much alarm,till the clock was my blood forever.that fear of losing you,doing something wrong, thetoo much responsibility and no response,only your toothless grin.your young weight on my arms,the summers of learning to walk, and to loveand many, many […]

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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 […]

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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 […]

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Twelve

Witch-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 […]

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Seven

unlike 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 […]

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imperatives

building 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 […]

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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, […]

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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 […]

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Green ink

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 […]

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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 […]

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Fragilities

A 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.

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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 […]

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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 […]

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Kad nerīmējas

Rudens 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. […]

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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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Ambassadors in silence

The 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 […]

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subtly against

I 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, […]

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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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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 […]

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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. […]

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This year in posts

as 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? […]

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zvirbuļu koŗi

tāpēc, 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 […]

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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 […]

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