Posted in Reading

Hanging with Morath

Truth be told, I’m not a voracious reader. In the past few years, I’ve turned to rereading — well, listening again — to a shortlist of books with characters that appeal to me. I like hanging, for example, with Nicholas Morath, the protagonist in Furst’s “Kingdom of Shadows.”

Posted in Journal

Gray Leaning Blue

Seven by the coast of the Celtic Sea, gray leaning blue, front to back, the air tame with a wee chill, the blackbirds busy and loud (with fledglings?), the collared dove hooting in the lane, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and it’s a bank holiday Saturday on our fraught road.

Posted in Journal

Bright and Warm

Half 11 by the coast of the Celtic Sea, the sun bright and warm in a blue sky, the breeze welcome, the birds busy, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and we’ve arrived at Friday with a bank holiday weekend in prospect and hopes up for a summer of normalcy.

Posted in Journal

As in a Magritte

Half 8 by the coast of the Celtic Sea, a gull gleaming as it banks round into a gray-masked sun, a wee breeze and gentle chill in a tame air, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and we’ve arrived somehow at a Thursday in a blur of days both rising and falling, as in a Magritte.

Posted in Journal

Dripping Rain

Half ten by the coast of the Celtic Sea, the sky bright but gray with a dripping rain, a mild breeze tickling the spring leaves, the birds busy, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and we’ve reached midweek, the world still a wee too fragile, the near months too fraught.

Posted in Journal

June, Then

Half 7 by the coast of the Celtic Sea, a light fog softening the sky, the air tame with a touch of morning chill, the birds busy, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and here we are at June, our lives not shed yet of the strangeness that’s settled over these years.

Posted in Poetry

Manias

Will the manias
come in waves now,
the spawn
of some new alchemy
inherent
in the network?

Posted in Journal

Red Tape Today

Eight by the coast of the Celtic Sea, and already warm enough for long sleeves and a jumper, the sky mottled but bright, the breeze modest, the birds busy, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and a bit of red tape in prospect as Monday confirmation that heaven hasn’t yet arrived.

Posted in Journal

A Wee Chill

Half seven near the coast of the Celtic Sea, a wee chill in the tame air, the sky blue from the harbor ridge to the cottage, the birds busy, the coffee decent tart and sweet, and we come round again to the refilling of the pillbox — Sunday, an ocean away from a half mad America.