I just felt your ghost Old Man, As I stirred this porridge. Are there ghosts? is heaven real? Or are you only my memory and my yearning?
Clean hands take to the earth, here where the water flows like fireflies and sparkles like summer raindrops. Dirty hands release new life from the containers of the world. Below limestone, in the touch of cold water from the depth. To clean hands of the earth, is our covenant.
Where does the scale end when a mountain makes me small but big beside ants
Love is night shifts that end the next day, so that you can still put your children to sleep, and see their unblemished dreams take shape. Love is walking home sore footed and dirty, in a shell of bleach and polish to seek a few hours sleep. Love is trying not to wake anyone as…
I needed a lock for my bike, and rode to the store to buy one, and could not go inside because I needed a lock for my bike
No water, just a hug. Watch me drink, don’t think Not much of a hug, deliberate. Cling to the clock. We can leave in three hours, That won’t be a shock. Why am I so worried about my potential rudeness, in the face of yours?
Instructions are the fools gold of idiots. Five steps or fifteen things so impossible they ought not exist. We used to graze goats and cake, ‘ ware the geese! Now they till the soil of sounds and finger movements. Who does this feed? Only ego, Influencers and loneliness.
A continent formed, there in the dark ocean before us. And before we could stop to bless a creator (A volcano, or a God, or aliens) we had seen the Bosun slit the Captain’s throat. Alliances rose and fell and twenty noblemen were honoured at once from their distant estates in the old country. Titles…
abreezegentle, whisperpresses through clothingand contemplates shivering bodiescautiouslybefore rejoicing,gloriously feeding winteratmosphere, laden with snowflakesgreycolddark
Do not train a child to learn by force or harshness; but direct them to it by what amuses their minds, so that you may be better able to discover with accuracy the peculiar bent of the genius of each. Plato
We board the train at Siebenhirten, and I help the Old Man on board, gently tipping his wheelchair to clear the gap. It’s funny the things that I had never noticed until this point about the world. Footpaths are too rough, expansion joints in the pavement jolt the chair and I hear the quick intake…
Crawl on the cool groundbreath a fog in the cool fallsearching, gathering.
The wind never ceasesto cut through pines.In ribbonsthe autumn air is carvedinto the word’free.’The old ones are gatheredby the creekheadweary now,resting, they pass the tunethis cold lonelysong”We were made by the world,but borne for menso far away.”Who do you think you areto pluck at ourfeet?”The wind never ceasesto make my heartfeel alone.In ribbons of old…
The Sun’s rakeis all but ignoredby the stonethat rests here,simply waiting to returnto the limestone hills.
The grass is always greenunderneath the snow.Though when it isn’t seen,the grass is always greenon other sides, obscene.And yet it will not grow.The grass is always greenunderneath the snow