blog
poetry is what we live. 8 june 2023
robert frost said: "Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat." for me, poetry is about slowing down and observing what is going on around us.
while stopped at a corner of a mouldering cherry blossom-covered street, i spied two young sparrows ripping leaves off a small plant. at a downtown square, a child chased pigeons into traffic where two were killed by cars. a woman walked down the street while talking on a cell phone and erupted in laughter. i thought about the woman my grandmother used to be before alzheimer's.
this is all poetry.

*also published on Buddhistdoor.
this site does not track you.
may reads. 1 june 2023
Standing Heavy by Gauz'
The Terror by Arthur Machen (reread)
The Good House by Tananarive Due
The Same Sea in Us All by Jaan Kaplinski (reread)
Gardening at the Dragon's Gate by Wendy Johnson (reread)

this site does not track you.
photograph. 24 may 2023

this site does not track you.
connections. 8 may 2023
a tug boat horn pulls me out of sleep. it is still dark outside. the wind blows, makes a low-tone whistle as it travels through the trees and skirts the building. the trees are mostly bare as only leaf buds dot the boughs.
my thoughts drift: a brief conversation with a homeless man, a chittering sparrow, my grams's health decline, a woman who miscarried.
"i'm hungry, do you have any spare change? i'm not lying about being homeless. let me show you what's in my bag – all i have is a blanket and a pair of socks. please, believe me."
"thank you for talking to me. people don't like talking to homeless."
the young sparrow, the corners of its beak maturing from a yellow colour to cream, perched atop a wooden sign post, chittered at its brethren before shitting, then flying away.
my grams, no longer able to chew food, can only eat pureed meals.
a woman who miscarried is surprised by how much grief she feels for the fetus.
the closing line of philip larkin's poem, The Mower, came to mind while the coffee steeped:
…we should be kind
While there is still time.
everything in the cosmos is interconnected. our separation is bridged through compassion and kindness to others, ourselves, and the world around us. it travels further than the pealing of a temple bell.

*also published on Buddhistdoor.
this site does not track you.
april reads. 1 may 2023
Brood of the Witch-Queen by Sax Rohmer
Lone Women by Victor LaValle
Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend-Warner
Killing Thatcher by Rory Carroll
New Hampshire by Robert Frost (reread)

this site does not track you.
for older posts, please visit the archive

This site does not track you.