The pinks!
As long as my breath still catches in my throat at a tinge of pink on the western horizon at sunrise—I’m good. I’m really not sure I want to live wi...
Category: Art
To all the late and wavering poets
Your fledgling faith is beginning to paint lines,extruding mute colours,flickering images. But the light in you is brittle,it quavers like crystal,threatens to ...
Calling
You have to respect the maniacal joy of a magpie, in the middle of this grey drizzly day. Her, don’t-give-a-shit secret, she flies with, feeds on, follows...
Every separation is a link – confessions of a trans-theist and the poetics of belief
These days I’m thinking about a metaphor found in the writings of Simone Weil: Two prisoners in adjoining cells are divided by a rock wall. Over what must...