Where can I go with your name in my mouth? It has sewn me shut with no word to offer. I cannot, anymore, ask for a cup of tea, Say hello when I pick up the phone, Respond to my own name called out. I am the dumb mute that denies the world. To say […]
Postcards from Istanbul /9
“You are always my concern. Nothing has happened to me to make me suddenly think more intensely of you… you, beautiful things and gloomy things are spread over my fleeting days” – Ingeborg Bachmann to Paul Celan May 1949 (unreceived letter) Mosaics are works of art comprising thousands of broken pieces. They are perfect symbols […]
Book Review: Am I There Yet? The Loop-de-Loop, Zigzagging Journey to Adulthood by Mari Andrew
Am I There Yet? The Loop-de-Loop, Zigzagging Journey to Adulthood by Mari Andrew My rating: 5 of 5 stars The best books find you when you need them most. I believe this. Like love, like a loss, like God, like faith, a song, a coin. Things find you when you’re not looking for them. I […]
Postcards from Istanbul /8
“She was like a landscape you see from the train, and you want to stop just there.” – Graham Greene, ‘The Living Room” What a difference a smile makes. How it shifts landscapes and ruins the topography of the heart. And how it does and undoes the shoelaces of our reserve, our restraint, and […]
Postcards from Istanbul /7
“You are a colander, sometimes losing things. Sometimes what keeps you alive is a mystery.” – Aracelis Girmay Another night, another room, in another hotel in a city so many thousands of miles away. In my life so often it occurs to me that the more I love, the further the object of my […]
My body sends you letters
I miss you. From the rumble inside my gut I miss you. From the wince and gasping ache for your heat, I miss you. From between my tendons, from the twitch of my muscle, from the creak of my aging bones, I miss you. From the soft dark of my hot heart, the steady rise […]
Postcards from Istanbul /6
“She inspired you, you loved her and sang of her; her task was done.” – Franz Liszt in a letter to Hector Berlioz, 1854 The give of a soft pear surrendering to my teeth. The burst of plum in my mouth; juice dribbling down my chin onto my helpless blue shirt. The tickle of […]
