(marginalia vitae)
As the cherries blossomAnd the apple trees,And the nightingale unsleeps,The chatter of gulls grows more earlyAnd the cats yowl higher in branches,My heart wondersWhere you’ve goneWhyThe bitter fragrance of the bird-cherries Brings me cold,Unbreakable from my memory,And why I longFor the black, tart berriesTo put in my sourdough bread.I disagree with the blackbirdWhen he announces […]
Read More AstringentOne day, digging up the forest floor, They will stumble upon something white. Something hard to identify, even to tell apart From the peat moss and mycelium, something Brittle and crumbling, even delicate To the exploring fingers. It will stain whatever it touches, So they will not forget The strange encounter. Today, though, it is […]
Read More archaeologyman 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 vieglākScatter 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 SinkingToday 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, 2019Un. Rasas piles krājas Gar grīšļu asajām lapām. Rītavējš Saliek smiltis, kur pēdas Pa graudiņam vien Izdziest. Apaļais dimants Notrīs Un izlejas zemē. Zib varavīksne, Un ēnas aizdejo tālāk. Noglāsti šauro Zaļumu pirkstiem, Asins un ūdens, Abi tiek zemei. Vējš ēnas vairo, Lapu maliņās iegriezdams Vēl vienu pavasari.
Read More Puķe ugunīKārklu 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*a pale star through the benighted branches blurred by lack of glasses i breathe four point three below zero and blink out of order where the crows sleep secretly black shadows on black, their dreams contagious, simple, crawling with edible garbage in plenty more steps over the brittle dead leaves smell like so many autumns […]
Read More a star unrepentantdeath is efficient. what else shall i say – it is efficient to the last minute detail. which makes it … deadly, i guess. or welcome, if one knows of its coming, and knows its purpose – to release the living from the burden of life. Terry Pratchett is among my favourite authors, together with […]
Read More upon the event of death of Terry Pratchettfor whatever reason, this crept to the surface of my mind, maddened by metaphors (and the rest of the stylistic analysis nomenclature): the sound is a little tinny, but the spirit is captured perfectly.
Read More melodious mondaythe kitchen is ever dark, and cold, and cave-like, and sombre. starting the fire, on gas or in the cooking range. the quiet determinism of those present in the house for the morning. the smell of sadness, the unspoken collectiveness of all people waiting. the setting-up of the pots, the pouring of water, the measuring […]
Read More funeral coffeegrass…it all turns into grass. it takes everything. see, how all is grown over. it takes everything. the grass comes up in the spring, and withers in autumn, but its roots keep the memory of the past. just listen…it is all there – in those roots.
Read More the dragon and the grassand again. for the past nights, i have been dreaming of losing her again. or not losing. it all is so confusing. my rational mind tells me- all that could have been lost, has been [lost], and there is nothing, nothing at all to be done about it. my body memory, morphic memory, tells me that something […]
Read More exp +360mīļo vecenīt, man iet labi. tikai nesanāk piezvanīt, jo iekšā kaut kas klab. tas par “zingeru” – laikam diegs pārāk nospriegots, vai arī kaut kas uz ass tur aiz kuģīša. tev vienmēr aizņemts, ar ko tu visu laiku runā? attaisīju vaļā, bet nekā, augšējais tāpat met cilpas;
Read More vēstule mātei*. ar šujmašīnas elementiem.another drop of ink in my bloodstream one day i will change and billow blue over pages of my undescribed world like a blot of thought dissolving in a basin of memory all clear all unforgotten strands of vapour wrapped in mist.
Read More coloursthis is one of the songs that has spoken, speaks and apparently will speak to me. i remember the first time i heard it, on my first ever pilgrimage. the song haunted me for days. it was sung at my baptism, too. and i wonder – maybe it is a song that might be universal […]
Read More five – a burden turned blessinga song about how life is like a ball of yarn, made from that one single moment of truth, that one meeting, that one memory, around which all else rests. and that sometimes the making of the ball becomes far more important than the moment in the centre.
Read More memories – or maybe falsemy brother is scared my father might be heading for there. fear makes my brother incomprehensible. i am not afraid of my father’s passing. knowing he kind of welcomes it, in his own way. i am afraid of not doing the right things. if i do my duty, my family will ostracise me. if i do not, i […]
Read More and again, like clockwork (contains a fragment of a swearword)it was muggy the whole day. then it rained. and now, the wild plums and crab apples, and all those blossoming things stand in the suddenly not-so-emerald grass, up to their knees in wispy mist. do trees have knees? they must, once we say that they stand. the ent-ish chestnuts have produced their sheathed candles, […]
Read More rain