unrelenting illness as an exercise in selflessness, a practice in love. the constancy of service; the small temporality of both body and ego. we enact joyful rituals of self-ministry, with infinite gestures of frailty, infinite gestures of healing. the blue flowers of bruises fade under poultices back to pallor. the angry, ruptured slits of ( Read more... )

the evanescent snow of november, quiet as an afternoon shifting imperceptibly toward dusk. a veil of vanishing snowfall and shadow now hides, now reveals the half-clothed, intimate trees, scattered still with the colors of sunset, of waning, the forest a woman made more beautiful through modesty. how demure is late autumn. how ardently, with what ( Read more... )

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the fluttering of birds at daybreak, sun carried on a flurry of wings, perched on the balcony railing, on the balcony chairs; a pale and lambent light, a warbling song. cardinals, finches, and doves stir but do not unsettle the stillness of early morning, early summer. in these hours, the incipient heat is all gentleness, all soft and humid ( Read more... )

february snow, delicate as lace and as finely wrought, ornaments the dusk. those plain, blue hours of repose, of consolation. the silver-blue of snowfall. the sapphire-black of silhouetted trees. the moon rises and is eclipsed, darkened to umber by umbral shadow. these miracles reaffirm that the world is but a place of passage. love overflows ( Read more... )

i have been visited by doves, enticed by augury. in thin november mornings, the mourning doves. which deity incarnates thus? by what name shall i address you? i know only the legend of pairs of crows, messengers of mahakala, who roost in rooftops far from mine. the exaltations of god and the envoys of god ( Read more... )

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how calm i have grown in the tranquility and reduction of illness. i am one of those blessed deepest by loss. when the clamor of the city is stilled, when the ticking of clocks and the low electric hum of a household are silenced, when a hush falls upon the constant, varied music of birds and insects, when we neither speak nor are spoken to, we ( Read more... )

the elements of midsummer: languid heat, a calm moon, the violent workings of the five visible planets. rainfall born of both mist and cataclysm that flows always toward reunion with the sea ( Read more... )

an evening thunderstorm with its torrents and brevity. she calls her lover to the window. she remembers suddenly, then, the beautiful illusion of his body, in which she rejoices. the passing illusion of rain. the purpose of my love is to devour me, she says ( Read more... )