Tag: Journal
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10.10: The Last Clear Map
To Avignon: The Last Clear Map 28 September (waiting in ferry queue at Newhaven)I.maps dream in the gloveboxthe sunrise is our compassour clocks are made of salt II.the sea pulls at usaway from white cliffs writinglove letters in chalk 29 SeptemberI.journey’s labyrinth —coins, a prayer, the bells ring,my soul leaves, fed by light. 30 SeptemberI.black…
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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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9 Jan: Journal of Thoughts
Four Days of a Hawk in Woburn Forest On Monday,a falcon took a pigeonwho was lostin its own little snowstorm. On Tuesday,we discovered the falconwas a hawk. On Wednesday,the hawk fell fast on a rat,its eye and tooth and bonequenched no appetite. On Thursday,the hawk swung a single arc,and straddled a happy little rabbiton the…
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12 Dec: The Relevance
The Relevance The sun light,it’s like yellow roses. A sky blue peepshow between clouds that spring and foam. Dad’s painting seascapes again.He keeps a wandering eyeon my sister and I. We walk the beach.Looking down. Beachcombing. I’m always on the move, I’m told,for fear of calcifying, Dad says. One day I’ll look up that wordso…
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28 Sept: Journal of Thoughts
A Journal of Recent Thoughts A Look Over My Shoulder There’s the blessing.The beatitude.The polite old ones spill from the church,gather for a chat, shake hands.Then tea and biscuits on the white linen tables. I’m in the rectory, pouring over old records,births and deaths,who is and who isn’tburied in sacred ground.In uneven mud and bitten…
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8 Sept: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The O In Moon A Pearl of a Moon I dreamt I heldreigns on the sky,on that pearl of the moonand its back-lit sky. I dreamt nightwas black and white keys,like the feathersin a magpie’s song. And I dreamt musiccame from a faraway staras it slid cold through…
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5 Sept: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The U In Thunder Orchestra It’s so close that her hands feelit prowling her edges.She feels the pressure of its gripa sleight-of-hand drop of rain. And she opens her handand invites its heart into hers.This sky-bound electrical blipthis quarrel with equilibrium. And she is too damned happy. Written…
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2 September: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The I In It (a cadralor poem) Scio Me Nescire – I Know That I Know Nothing I.They call from a glaze of grey skies marked with white stars of geese,a band of loud trombone songsblowing through small clouds. II.This day is pulled by change,a season’s race pipped…
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12 July: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The I In It She’s a Seven Nation Army How much of that dayshould I hope to remember …. the warm dust rising behind the carmy mother’s outthrust chinmy mother’s instructional glance her suntanned skinher leaf-brown hair another dress from the same pattern…. but different fabric…. she’s yellow…
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6 December: Somewhere There’s Always Chocolate
Somewhere near the equator, my youngest son is explaining to his daughter of nearly 6 years why she can’t have chocolate for breakfast, in much the same way that I explained to him when he was 6, why he couldn’t eat chocolate for breakfast, and much like my mum explained to me that eating chocolate…
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