On the porch, at night in winter: A street away, the scrape of skates, the slap of a puck.
Outdoor Rink
Category: photo,
Another Lament
The terrible sting of sugar doesn’t erase my parents smiling into the camera, a cemetery behind them, my grandparents gravestone beside them. They all lie there now.
Lament 10: Anger
Anger is easier than being sad, like a boil you can ignore till it erupts. Grief locks your time into a blur of absence that can't be released..
Lament 9: Necessary Rituals
All my necessary rituals hold me, keep me standing. All my necessary rituals keep me rigid and stuck. All my necessary rituals are collapsing letting me fall, bruising me. What rituals can support what I need now?
Lament 8: On Writing
Writing at the raw edge opens the dimness for a brief glimpse of my now. Writing at the raw edge unlocks the gates of my whirling for a moment. Writing at the raw edge spews my dark lava onto a screen for a moment of now.
This Bleak Midwinter
Christmas lights the colour of twilight, and a heritage nativity set, - A bleak celebration avoiding plastic Santas or plastic regrets Awaiting a new year, watching changes from remembered winters, listening to the noise of fools heard on the tv news.
Lament 5
My summer is over; chill seeps into the silent room: winter comes..
Lament 3
Lament 3 The moment I wish to speak of the one gone, that moment my mouth opens and jagged phrases stumble out, That moment we’re locked in this incoherent moment, caught in a miasma of loss, of sorrow.
Lament 2: In Metaphors
Slivers of light leak in through the screen and pane, under the heavy blue curtain. In the dawning dimness, a mirror reflects partially, a half-open door hiding what lies beyond. I am alone in a strange city.
Learning Living 