a star unrepentant

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…

was clearing the rucksack and found this

a little winter poem*. i think it will look fine in the heat (such as it is) of the summer: today it snows right out of the blue they fall, correct in every aspect, criss-crossing the near to the far, cross-stitching the perspective to this silence, this mute mobility outside the glass. Snowflakes, little feathers…

random fact

i dream in code. this time it is php and variants of html. i organise my dream sequences, using CSS. i wake up with a New paragraph (<span></span>) aargh.

the ebb and flow

now i understand how the witches and familiars work. i think i do.not how the witches work, not how familiars work, but the and bit. my cat is back. freshly carried in from the yard, somewhat timid, scarred, thin as a rake (with a lot of fur on), and white as the melting snow (which is rather..grey).…

things move

the clouds in stratosphere shift invisibly, under the cover of low, rain-soaked spreads closer to earth; rain-clouds come closer to find all sorts of parade, or maybe the remnants of snow; and they rain; wind moves cyclons. or maybe the other way round; air masses move branches, and trees, and waves, and all sorts of…

unwriting

this christmas was/is a white and unseasoned season. maybe even bitter, although it does not feel so. it does not feel like anything, really. the snow is crisp. the cold is timely. the moon pours blue light over the silent(ish) city. the room temperature is adequate. when i am not working, doing something practical, i…

how linden trees give names

they (the linden trees) are gnarled and crabby, and craggy, and at least a hundred years old. we (the people) are crabby and smooth, and the wrong shape, and too quick to die. they observe us when we come within their range of perception. they think slowly, arboreally. they write their observations into their time-lines…

parallels and juxtapositions

what shall i name you? ever have you been close by. in the sky, and in soil, in parched sod and in mud, over the treetops and by the roots and fallen leaves, and yea, even in the season of spring when all is reborn, have i felt your breath. you have taught me patience,…

shades of green with a dash of red

take two green zucchinis (about 10 inches long each) and dice them one large green bell-pepper, also dice about 25 green olives, chop into bits three cloves garlic, minced one can diced tomatoes with basil put into a bowl, add about 1/2 teaspoon salt(or to taste) with a pinch of five peppers, and about 1…

winter as a subject of complaint(s)

is there a season that attracts as many and as contradictory complaints as your plain, simple winter of the northern hemisphere? when the winter is mild and the temperature does not fall under minus ten celsius, they complain about the lack of cold and crispiness. and the ticks survive and infest everywhere.

bez pieturzīmēm

es gribu betona kluci baznīcas kalnā kur rakstīt grafiti un dīvainus vārdus atļauties garāmgājēju acīs tādu lielu, pelēku kluci trīs dimensijās kur uzkrāsot domas un klusumu atstāt ļaužu skrējiena malās

Eighteen. Darkness

darkness is the absence of light. have you  noticed that it is quite impossible to switch the darkness on, it is only possible to switch off the light. yet, darkness is useful in its own way. it gives rest to the eyes and the mind. it challenges the spirit. it gives itself up so that we…

Sixteen. Word thief

to be a translator is to be a thief of words. to go out, into the peopled streets and the public transport full of language carriers. to listen, and to capture words, intonations, expressions. to sort them out, like butterflies, into genres and categories, and fill scrapbooks with them. and then, sometimes, just sit and…

Fifteen. Believing

isn’t it strange, how teachers believe in their students? they [teachers] believe in their [student] creativity. their talent. their strength and ambition to achieve something. they [teachers] seem to see in the realm beyond the fear, anxiety, plain stupidity and lack of graces, social or otherwise. see right through the now and here into some…

Eleven. The trouble with Jesus

he does not know too much. he knows everything. can you trust someone who knows everything about you, your life, your motives, your desires, your …whatever? he knows all that and still loves you. can you trust this person? make that leap from being unknown to being fully known? can you live with everything being known about…

Five. Chess

the great game of chess has been likened to the game of life. but maybe it is the game of life that is likened to game of .. chess, fidchell, hneftafl and so on. maybe people of all times have wanted to transfer the responsibility of life to that of a game, where one can…

Two. Dreams

there’s this. dreams. they are made of something. some people say, dreams are made of us, who we are, what we experience, what we remember or process. maybe they are right. or rather – there is some truth in what they say (about dreams, that is). and yet – there is more to dreams that…

communication protocols

doubt. some say it is the driving force of progress. or the middle way between faith and taking offence. or the mother of whatever it is doubt could be the mother of. tonight i just do not know. i do not even know if i doubt… i doubt even this.

no medicine

the writing has got stuck again. to unstick it, i moved furniture in my room. now it looks even more crazy. in the process i discovered a lost mug. it must have felt very sad behind the armchair. and why did ronald barthes have to write so engagingly and unquotably?