Happy New Year

My new found land, Here it shall rain a little every day, enough to see the blossoms rise and set the sweet tone of afternoon sky forth. Tides shall rise and fall, telling a story of sweet fleshed and wry. Salt laved skin we shall rise from the water aflame with beauty. Blessed by Galene…

Resolution

I heard sounds in the garden, of the little creaturesA few cicadas, skinks, butcher birds, a snake by the woodpile.The sun hurt my arms, burning like the new pastso I moved to the shade.I am looking for the friends who knew youbefore they join you- what do they know?Who did they see when they looked…

Three Thirteens

It could be a gunshot, or the falling of rocks and snow,awaken! you are growing older can’t you see that?Thrice thirteen, and what to show? We want to hide.Scars, who was it gave them, who were youto take them so willingly?Rode your bike to the promenadefaster than the bus, the form of your body.You were…

Xmas Day

Not thinking about the politics of religion (or is it the religion of politics?). There are 282 blog posts here, and each one I suppose says the same thing we say at Christmas. I need to be grateful for the blessings my life has provided. There are so many things that made me sad, but…

Feedback Loop

My hands are here now holding yours. I read to you stories in poorly accented German. How can you be so small and still live? Who grew these metastases? The painkiller is stored in a locked box and it has become you- your raison d’être that does not kill pain. It just makes it harder…

Footsteps

Mist comes to the attention of the curtain bent on the grass Sheltered from the snow the smell of needles and ozone resonate stories without meaning. Perish from the first time that the divots of a stag’s feet spoil the perfect white. Before a time of noiseless storms.

Anaesthesia

Blood pressure cuff tickles, don’t laughor the nurse will think you’re crazy.Canula is so sharp that it feels likethe sting of a wasp that never leavesentirely.There’s waiting- and a blanket that’s warmbut made of holes, like a fishing net.Lights are dim, and behind the curtainanother man softly coughs from timeto time.Then transport to a cold…

Growing a circle

Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. C.S. Lewis

Falling asleep with a baby on my chest

I’m writing this on my smartphone, one handed, in the dark in my babies cot, trapped underneath him. The storm that I had anticipated finally came and he woke up terrified at the way the rumbling made our house tremble. He’s not yet 7 months old and after he fell asleep his little hands grasped…

Flowers in a Storm

The earth laughs in flowers. Ralph Waldo Emerson Even though the storm was coming, I was compelled to stop and take this picture. There was a heady stream of wind pushing at me from the cliff wall to my left, and the rain was pattering in that ominous manner. My phone was buzzing with a…

Nasturtium Dreams

No shoes, on the grass we sit, though the snakes are near. The cicada song is rife, telling a story of joy after 13 years of darkness. There’s a deep scent in the wind they keep telling us a storm is coming. But all I smell is the dreams of nasturtiums Drinking in the light.

The online guide to making your website more successful.

The part that always comes out of the curtain is that you can make it easier for you to make money. Stay in touch with your friends and colleagues You can make your own gift cards online If they are not able-bodied enough for you to send To your loved ones then why not make…

Birds aren’t racist, but…

Their cries echo in the dusk of evensongthey arrived from the land where Wallacedrew his line.They came here to steal the space of othersplace their eggs there, and they are hatedas though they were brown skinned.Try telling them that you are from here,and they won’t believe you. “But you look so…”Remember the names of scorn and…

To a church, on the hill.

Somewhere there is a church on a hill, at the edge of more forest. It sits in the gaze of the Schneeberg, the snow mountain that is the first (or last) great thrust into the sky marking the Alps. There is a market village running below the hill, and the stalls those semi permanent wooden…