when all else fails

pain remains. in its incapacitating, insane clarity, pain remains. and suddenly, there is no space for questions of why and what for, because there is only that which is. pain. it will pass, at some point, i know, this is only a bout, a fit, incomplete and unfinished, searing the edges of what i thought […]

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when a wake is impossible because the people are too different and just would not talk

it is midnight, and the tree roots have grown over the faces of the ancient statues of power and strength, and faithfulness.   at the table, cards folded in hands the two sat, unblinking, unmoving, speechless amidst little half-empty glasses of shots.   the light flickered, unresolved gleaming on the horizons where what was met […]

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the night

and so i was standing there, in the darkness, and listening. to the bat song, and to the trees talking to the wind. to the smell of almost fallen leaves, and raw earth from the fresh fields. and how the stars move and the clouds stand still. so simple. so irreversible. life moves from a […]

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the madness of pain

the madness of pain consists not in one’s own experience. even if it might be quite terrific. the madness of pain consists in the seeing of the pain of those one loves, and being quite unable to alleviate it, or do anything about it. not because of the lack of compassion, or capacity. just because […]

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to those who survive miraculously

“It’s amazing we survive, isn’t it.”, someone wrote to me yesterday. and i agree. death is usual, survival is miraculous. the broken parts turn into barometers, devices of foresight, after they heal (what seems to be) haphazardly. and then we live on, disfigured, but whole. and very few can look at the disfigurements, and see […]

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the unwritten

i thought about writing a long and maybe poetic post about my mother playing tetris. she was perfect at it. but i will not. because it would be too long and too poetic, and what is inside me is all raw and sore, and not poetic at all. she played tetris like a world champion […]

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i miss her. it’s been a year and a half roughly – and i still miss her. the little things, the casual talk on the phone, the cabbage recipe, the enjoying of bananas or fish soup. nothing great or important, just the little, everyday, unimportant things. the beautiful voice. the work-worn hands. the ‘life must go on’ […]

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flying with silences

i look to the night moth when the wind waits patiently in the susurrus of leaves to borrow the silence of wings that carries me back and onwards, into the sigh of memories, moments, remembrances, shared shards of a life and experience that are lost irreversibly. under the cover of midnight green i will put […]

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and so i get up today, and get out of my place, and come back, and kinda wonder why my right hand is feeling somewhat odd. and then i look at the palm, and there’s this huge bruise, right in the middle. honestly, when i went to bed last night, there was none, and i […]

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tāpat vien, kad mākoņi velk vagas debesīs

pelēki balti mākoņu nagi tirkīza tīrskaņas debesīs es tevis neatradu tu biji apklusis. tagad jasmīna smaržām rakstu uz platānas lapām tādu kā vēstuli – gan vējš aiznesīs manas skaņas gar taviem mēmajiem logiem; un mēness pārskries tumšlapu kokus un cauri laikiem sikspārņi dziedās par to, kā aizmirsušie klusumā aiziet, nespēdami savus gabalus salasīt ilgu pustumsā.

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burning photos

a flick, and another memory lights up, and is elevated in smoke; was it necessary, upon a second thought, was that moment a pearl beyond comparison? ordinary moments, strung on a fishing-wire, like so many glass beads, fun to behold, fun to make patterns, and so ethnic, no high art would ever confess being near; […]

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through the sun and back again

in the rays of the pale sun under the white sky, a droplet of melting snow is a rainbow semaphore, signalling the brevity of time and time alone, to be remembered; a collection of shards of reminiscences inhabiting the world of now, and ever so astray; [it is] a vivacious reminder that all the white […]

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sunday, march eleven

this was a glorious, epic, spectacular fail day. no, not fail. FAIL. thus: in order to be in time for the church event, i put up 3 alarms: 6.30, 7.00, 7.30. i woke up at 8.30, and someone had pressed all the alarms without me even as much as remembering getting up and catching the […]

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the floating*

when all is relative, when all is arbitrary, what has happened to meaning? if there is no meaning to the simple and little  things, what happens to the bigger things? the bigger things void of meaning, what happens to the big things? when everything moves, where is peace? (it is full moon, i know) _________________ […]

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piezīmes iz lauku dzīves

gulbenes benzīntankam ar godu jāsaka – pēc mana kritiena uz vietējā nelabotā bruģa jaunietis – pārdevējs izteica līdzjūtību un piedāvāja šņabi. a es tur gāju pirkt sērkociņus. tā nu tagad nokrāsoju zaļu nobrāzto ceļgalu, mērcēju šņabī sastiepto rokas locītavu un priecājos par to, ka bruģis nebija vēl caurumaināks, jo tad varēja arī kaut ko nejauši […]

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