Tag: #JusJoJan
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27 January: Fallen
Fallen He’s unbalanced by gravity, plummets like currency. Tumbles on the trail and then disappears from view. There’s a bolt of noise through his head, and he looks around – a slow forest of ebony, trees of speech, lanky, a green canopy of limbs. The ground is thick, muddy, and bitter, and his eyes are […]
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25 January: dVerse Grandmothers
Granny Eunice Granny says she’ll give mea dish of tonguesif the screen door slams. The screen door slams. Fly paper swingsand snags sunny yellowin the summer breeze. Bacon’s fryingin curls and shrinks.Spits. The flame jumps. Granny’s arms are dressedin skin and flour.Butter on her cold fingers. It’s a blessing to a baker, she says. Scones. […]
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24 January: An Imagist Poem
It’s Ideal It’s small becauseit has to be small. Room for a cup of coffee, and her feet. Corner view.Two sash windows.Third floor. A wide window sillfor wildflowers.Jam jar for a vase. Desk.Chair.Lamp. Rattling traffic. The overground.Horns, and a clattering radiator. Heels and trainers.Coats and brollies.Into the wind A rabble of litter.A newsagents’ debris.A chippy […]
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24 January: JusJoJan “Paintbrushes”
Mukluks and the Colour Blue He’s wearing his favourite slippers.Mukluks, that’s what he calls them because his aunt, who lived in Greenland, called them that. But, his mukluks have a Fair Islepattern. Not exactly Kalaallisut. And he scuffs along the floor, sohe won’t stride straight out of them, making a sh-sh sound that I just […]
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15 January: Bloganuary and JusJoJan
A Breath of Gratitude Through two long years,the lavender bloomed,the thyme grew largeand hard, the oak treespulsed spring green, and my face still behind a mask. And it was several monthsinto autumn when I walkedinto a supermarket, inhaledscents of fruit instead of myslumped breath, and gratitudefilled my lungs as if newborn. And then a woman […]
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10 January: #JusJoJan Periwinkle
Watching There’s a blank wave webbing across the pond, and quarrelling ducks under the influence of a boy throwing stale bread. He wipes his nose on his cuff, and throws more bread at the clear periwinkle sky. And a 200-year old oak is watching all this. Written for JusJoJan 10 Jan: periwinkle. usAI Digital Art is […]
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9 January: Yellow Brick
Yellow Brick How do you endure it, that colour of jaundice brick. Brick should be earthy, and red, warm as a sunset, not sick as a liver. It’s the earth, he replied. The clay is yellow. An answer, pure and simplified. The front windows were reflecting stray clouds and an amber sunset, and it filled […]
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22.1.22: Herniated Disks and Other Mischiefs
To Hell ‘n Back It’s a herniated disk, you see. Nope, I didn’t do a thing. It just happened. Sitting on a chair, eating dinner. Then pop. And I can’t sleep. I’m trying not to move. Every twitch, stabs. And I notice that the street light licks the bedroom wall a silent grey, a smeared […]
It's Still Life 