Saturday, September 28, 2019

our city is spreading its wings

Wings are leaving the city, all the time.

That's what we call them, the 30 to 50 meters long wind turbine rotor blades. They arrive by ship, make a strange addition to the landscape for a while as they are stored in a field near the harbour, and then leave the city while stopping traffic with their special transports and flickering orange lights.

I've been seeing these giant hulks for years, patiently pulling my car over to make room when they come. I still catch my breath when I see them. Beautiful, eerie and impossibly large, they are going away to harness the wind. It moves me.

Friday, September 27, 2019

fridge poetry

chant: all you and delirious!
play with a sun, still as a storm

bitter goddess with shadow hair
diamond skin, bare feet, cool blood

dream of frantic symphony above
dress like a scream, misty red fashion
run on moon juice
hot tiny light in luscious language garden

blue peach girl
drunk on sky, mad rose in bed
elaborate ache whispers over fiddle boy
sad beauty said no here

live rain woman:
go watch water
love like a thousand lazy summers
and sing about a ship of honey

Sunday, September 22, 2019

always a stranger

In the world I am
Always a stranger
I do not understand its language
It does not understand my silence

(Bei Dao)