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blossom
the ornamental garden heavy with bloomsperfume strong enough to holda presence in the easterlybumble bees’ wings silentthey drink from deep cherry wellsnubs of pollen caught on their thighspetals brighten, whiten in sunlightflashing through the broken cloudyou crane your neck nestle your nosein a garland of petalsfresh enough to hold firmto buds from whence they sproutedwe →
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on the wind
¡Muy vientos! Es no buenothe old man, barely half my height remarkedthe fingers of the four palmswere drawn to the mountainsnorth-east of the old townill winds bring ill moodsill luck, ill healthnothing good to this placegusting through the narrow streetspicking off loose grainsfrom the crumbling sandstonerecently tormented by lashings of hailthe wind whips round ground-down →
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on love
this restaurant sat emptywith fresh roses on tablessomething not quite rightwhere are all the couples?is this indicativeof the state of the nationdivided, unhappyrecession, inflation?there’s talk of threatsan under-manned armywho will defend us when we’vebroken ships in the navy?do young couples prefer dogsat the age we had babiesis enduring teething toddlersthought worse than risk of rabies?was →
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on Ukraine
now, in other newswinter comes to clog the wheelsfurniture in fire ~ n.b. Days into years, years into tears. CLP 11/11/2023 →
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on Ukraine
persistent drizzlelet’s talk about the weatherwinter looms again ~ n.b. The last weeks before everything slows up and armies dig in for another miserable winter. CLP. 17/10/2023 →
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on the surface
everything serenesky of bluesea of greenrelief of breezebarely a cloudhorizon cleartake my handclimb aboardwe’ll chart a coursetake the wheelhead out to seawhere it will bedown to usto navigate a wayfor you and me~ CLP 05/09/2023 →
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Weathering
after countless weeksrain finally cameenlivening the window with shivering streamsthat attracted tired eyesfrom flickering screensa stop earlier than intendedshe stepped off the busbare-headedrivulets formed on her browcoursed down her faceran down her neckunder her blousechilled her breastshe slowed her pacefaced the skyran her tongue tipfrom lip to lipat last, againsweet rain on skin ~ n.b. →
Journey of Words 