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26 July: of Leather & Weather
a journal 26 July — The Road Trip Prelude 04:somethingThe sun arrived first,prying open the day with gold-tipped fingers.I gathered dew from the garden — tiny pearls of morning —then let sleep pull me back like a tide reclaiming shells. 07:30Bamboo.Not a sentence — just a word.A baptism by syllable.It struck the silence like a…
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26 July: MicroDosing 100µg
Feathers and Stones — (microDosing / surprise – 100µg) It’s a child’s view — watching the morning sun moving round the kitchen. It pulses through the lace curtains in fragments, like memory unraveling. The house hums. The walls remember more than I do. Grandmother does, too. She startles like joy, or prophecy. “Fetch me the…
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25 July: of Leather & Weather
a journal 10:33Ode to the Repairman Who Mistook ‘Noon’ for ‘Never’You said “morning” —which, in the dialect of hammers,must translate to:I’ll arrive when the moon divorces the tides. 11:14He arrived three hours late,bearing the holy wrench of redemption.Fixed the Quooker with a prophet’s calm,then drank three cups of tea,as if each sip was a sacramentto…
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25 July: Same Old Skin
Same Old Skin — (after a song by Asaf Avidan – My Old Pain) The willowweepsbut notfor me.(fucking willow —danceslike a noose.) It bendsfor windsI cannotsee.(wind.it ripsthe skyfrom its ownmouth.) I wear my achelike leather worn —(torn,cracked,smilingthrough itsseams.)This old skin with teeth at my throat. I’m a hull splintered where ropes once called me —useful.(It…
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25 July: Journal of Thoughts
Where the Heart Goes Then, without warning, the sky splits its seams,dumping light like stolen jewels,and we gulp the calm,foolish as sailorskissing the shorethat will betray them again. Happiness is a spider’s bridge,spun between gunshots. And still the heart—ever the fugitive—steals into the next verse,into the next stranger’s mouth,into the next wardisguised as lullaby. It…
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24 July: A Thursday Door
The old service doors sighWith stories etched in their grainDay’s bustle fadedStillness wears yesterday’s rain Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share.…
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24 July: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: ett: I’m thankful that I noticed the cat who walked in my house through the open patio doors, had a good look around the living room (cat hair on the sofa), and then walked by me like it owned the place, brushed against my leg (which until then I hadn’t realised…
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23 July: dVerse Prosery
Equinox She was a daughter of light, yes — but even as a child, she watched the shadows move first. They gathered beneath her bed like cats. Flicked the candles when no wind stirred. Knew her name before she did. She tried to stay loyal to the sun. Woke early. A sunrise child. Let its…
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22 July: Journal of Thoughts
A Chip, We Cried The French cried “Mais non! We made pommes frites!” But history winced and called them twits.For Belgium fried the golden wand,In oil so deep, so rich, so fond. They claimed the name, those saucy Gauls,While Britons munched in seaside stalls.“A chip,” we cried, “not frites, you fool!”Then wrapped them hot in…
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22 July: A Six Sentence Story
14.2 of 27 – Driftspire: Lindisfarne – Before dawn, dreaming Part 3: Driftspire’s Tidemark Brigid dreams in crow-black ink and saltwater glyphs — names she realises she wrote herself, now unspooling like psalms soaked through by rain. Felreil stands at the edge of her sleep, voice soft as worn vellum: “Of course you dream this…
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