April 25, 2015 § 2 Comments
Here I am lying on a beach a long way from home, unseeing and unseen, hearing the gentle lap of small waves, the scrunch of mournful stepping and doleful talk. I remember other sounds. The hum of city traffic, spiked with claxons, spiked with shouts, the clink and chink of meal time conversation, the whisper of my name on another’s breath. Two thousand dollars of hope in my pocket all emptied now, each one falling into Poseidon’s purse, not for a better life just a safe one, and here I am anyway, bathing in a four star tourist’s place, zipped up in my black plastic shroud, unseeing and unseen.
(in memorium, up to 1600 people have drowned in the Mediterranean so far this year in their efforts to make landfall in Europe)
April 20, 2015 § Leave a comment
Like a veil of the finest batiste in whose even weave the weight of a breeze blowing over far blue flax fields is felt, my attention hangs. Soft grey pigeon calls work their way neatly along the raw edge of the day interrupted now and then to rethread or turn the seam, while the trill of smaller birds adorn the piece with clusters of loops and tiny knots until all the voices are done and the veil blows in the quiet of a dip-dyed sky turning from teal coloured twilight to night.
April 19, 2015 § 2 Comments
One syllable on a short breath. Tongue behind my low teeth lips apart widening at the corners in what could be the start of a smile but it isn’t and it all ends with a small hiss that says I’m in even though there is a mild gripping around my heart and in the yards of gut that are trying to trip me up but hey this isn’t a life or death situation so I don’t notice until that one short breath is already expelled already met by your side of the conversation and I am left clueless as you continue unstopped as to what made my tongue not press up behind the high teeth not set off a small nasal drone and shape the lips forward not as if to kiss you but to say no.
April 17, 2015 § Leave a comment
In the deep ditch there is an abstraction of greens. Sharp blades, ragged crowns and cushions of fringed leaves. I could lie down here and bury my face in the thick scent of new beginnings, lie still until dandelions poke their yellow heads between my fingers, and the excursion of ants, the whisper of caterpillars deep in their own metamorphosis becomes loud. Sometime in the well of night, undisturbed and undisturbing, the soft paws of a quiet fox will halt mid-stride, sniff the damp mossy air and move on.
April 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
The pond algae drifts like the maiden hair of some forgotten goddess. Long, fine, brushed fifty times each night until tangle free and shiny. I lift swathes of glossy tresses and it giggles in the dripping of clear water that smells of green things and rain. Days later it will be a dry colourless matted mess, a cast-out crone no longer believed in, consigned to a bin and a resting place in the earth.
April 9, 2015 § Leave a comment
An early mist dilutes the sunrise, dampening all but feathered wings and causing tulips to hug their petals tight. Later as heat and light accumulate in the spaciousness of a blue sky the tulips have been dropping their skirts, revealing a glamour fit to entice small bees who dirty their legs on sweet dust. Bird calls stipple the waning day.
April 7, 2015 § 2 Comments
Something tiny, vital and invisible is living with me, or I with it. It arrived on a breath unnoticed and settled silently for as much as a few days, slowly creating a sand tray on my vocal cords whilst smoking unfiltered high tar Woodbines. It likes to interrupt when I am speaking, and prefers not to sleep supine. I’m not sure we have a room-mate agreement, but I’m looking to nullify the clause pertaining to house guests.
**with gratitude to Sheldon Cooper