Category: Journal
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The Best Laid Eggs
The Best Laid Eggs and as I peel eggs today, the soft white flesh sticking to the shell, and tearing away in ragged clumps, My thoughtsWander away withThose words pumped up with helium,Words that escape the tongueAnd rise into the sky like smokeAnd vanish as we sleep, …
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Twiglet #156
CHILLED the winter fields are flat and cold snow clouds stretching long as banners Dad hated this time of year. He’d come home, and soak his feet in a dishpan of hot water and epson salts.. He was a postman. this weather rushes on us with its wild eyes ice pecking our face I always…
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The Wind Changed
1 July: The weather turned on Sunday. Saturday was hot. Sunday the wind changed, and the clouds rolled in. Then it rained. Heaven opened, and drowned us. THE WIND CHANGED ON SUNDAY I remember Sundays as sin-free. I’d put on my best dress. My best shiny black shoes. A bit of small change in my…
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Country Life and Other Myths Created by Katie Melua
Country Life and Other Myths Created by Katie Melua There aren’t 9-million bicycles in Beijing, and we’re not 12-billion light years from the edge. However, there are 7,843 steps as you walk on cobblestones that threaten to roll your ankle like cigarette paper. I’m strolling the weathered planks of the pier at Bandholm harbour. The…
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Ars Poetica Views Over the Marstal Bugt
Ars Poetica Views Over the Marstal Bugt A poem is sitting on this bench It’s mostly green. Except for Seagull guano Looks Ars Poetica. A poem needs strategic placement. A swan in the reeds. Two blackbirds in the elm tree. A poem is a breeze in my right ear. A poem is a ferry crossing.…
It's Still Life 