Category: Journal
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0303: Spring Thoughts
Tonight, the Worm Moon.Tonight, the serious thing.The moon that names itself after the casting,the turning,the slow, blind labour beneath the soil. Time to get up.Time to get moving. Time to be, like the crow:the theorem of my own life,the whole cold mathematics of an eye. And the birds still think I’m morning. Some images are…
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0203: Journal of Thoughts
All Clear Something fell.Not from the sky,from inside the architecture of me.A dark shade pulled,a sudden subtraction.I ducked.Who wouldn’t duckwhen the world suddenly lacksthe corner where you keep your name? They looked.They said: trick.Just a trick.As if the body playing haunted houseis somehow less a ghost. I am not blind.But I have seen,for one long,…
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0203: Journal of Thoughts
Bond Street, Winter He sits beneath glass. Not inside the warmth of it,but reflected in it,a ghost beside mannequinsdressed for a seasonthat does not forgive him. A tan hood pulled tightagainst a London windthat does not carewho once had keysand who now has none. His beard holds frostlike unkept promises. People passwith polished shoes,their eyes…
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2802: SenHai #41
Senryuthe storm knows my name it circles what I won’t sayand waits for thunder Haikucharcoal clouds ascendlight thins between their clenched fists rain holds its breath Senryu (after the squall)rain cools the skin but underneath, the old heatwaits its turn again. Written as an ekphrastic for SenHai #41. (some) images created with Midjourney; all writing…
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2502: MicroDosing 70µg
One Heron It came from the river’s grey throat,one syllable of stillnesswritten against moving sky. On the neighbour’s ridge,it folds its long prayersinto the shape of patience.Legs like reeds.Neck like questions.Waiting for the world to offer somethingworthy of its hunger. But know:the soul does not arrive.It alights.And stays only as long asthe heart can bear…
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2102: Journal of Thoughts
Gardening Tips for Late Winter The shovel was his wife’s. Silver-gilt handle, worn smooth by her grip. He’d kept it after she left, hung it on a hook in the shed where the light never reached. He started small. Digging in the garden’s far corner, where the roses failed and the soil gave easily. He…
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1302: Journal of Thoughts
Torsion Without Tear Some days, the world is clear-woven.A linen of light, laid flat, to read the warp,the weft of a leaf,the true grain of a face in the morning. Some days are a slow, internal hand,taking the cloth by its cornersand twisting. There is no rip, no tear.It torques —edges sharpened,but still whole. A…
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0602: Journal of Thoughts
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. Letting a foxglove grow wild in your garden is a way to kneel. Your dignity is not in your command, but in your constant, devotion to the love that moves the sun and the stars. The Foxglove in My Garden Speckled throat.Bell-tower of the…
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0402: Journal of Thoughts
The Unraveling Atlas All of it vanished. An atlas of her mind,its cities and borders,quietly disowned by its own map. She tries, but my nameis a syllable without a home, a drift of familiar musicthat slips off the edge of the worldevery time I leave.Or finish a sentence. I learn to search her forgetting.To check…
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190126: Journal of Thoughts
Today Is the Day Morning unfastened itself in rain,a soft grey unlatching of the world.I pulled the curtains, and there it was,a small plane stitching the sky,dragging its sentence behind it:Today is the day. No thunder followed.No doors flew open.The kettle boiled.The hours put on their usual coatsand walked past without stopping. Still, that banner…
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