Stop counting

Do not count the minutes the hours the aches of your waiting the distance of touches Do not count the weeks the months the lines around eyelids the hairs turning grey Do not count the years the decades the blinks between birthdays the fathoms of remembering

Advertisements

Bursting point

The world has always been this way —it’s only now that I can see. Children in their endless bubbles bound about like tiny giants; living lives that stretch far beyond their bursting point. All I do to console myself is admire such ferocious will.

Another day

Another day... another day... another day has passed away! Weep! And rejoice! Another day comes this way!

Simple tastes

Common table sugar dissolving into mouthfuls of plain, sour yoghurt; your kisses after an argument, knowing the fights will continue after the make-up sex —galaxies dying on my tongue.

Our epitaphs

Do not speak of Charon, or any cold marble thing: that’s all just Greek to me. Your grandiloquent amphitheaters— columns and rows of allusion—only tease at monument. They ruin this moment. You are in your twenties and worry about the colour of parkas... how many people will attend your party... Find a homely metaphor I… Continue reading Our epitaphs

A Haibun by Bashō

I returned to my old home at the beginning of the ninth month. The day lilies in my mother’s room had all been withered by the frost, and nothing was left of them now. Everything was changed from what it used to be. My brother’s hair was white at the temples, and there were wrinkles… Continue reading A Haibun by Bashō

A short walk

A highway we all walk down: the old, the ugly, the young, and the beautiful. Travelling in the procession; navigating all the shit and the refuse; amidst all the booing and jeering; someone grabs our arm, tells us we are wonderful... and the pageant is glorious!

The festival of festivals

The festival to celebrate every festival ever celebrated is always in the planning stages. The campaign managers keep raising the most astronomical funds. The event organisers keep improving on already spectacular programmes. The promoters keep discovering performers more talented than the last. The headlining acts keep perfecting every fine detail of their craft. The set… Continue reading The festival of festivals

Every moment: a history

Never forget: every moment ever lived lives on— even long, long after it is forgotten —it lives on.

Deserted

You stand alone in a desert surrounded by mirage— you cannot remember how you got here. You travel to a mirage workplace, converse with mirage workmates, share mirage drinks on Friday evenings. You have been servicing a mirage mortgage on a mirage apartment with your mirage dream girl for over seven years now. You are… Continue reading Deserted