Almost Holy

The longing for you is almost holy. Warm you sleep; your eyelids closing are the night coming for me. Inescapable love of lives,  my lingering ache is the origami crane tucked in your breast. Doing undoing wills and possibilities: with each breath, life raises itself and with every exhale it returns. As it is with all […]

It is very quiet, very tender today

  Lover look, it is finally overcast The sky is heavy-bosomed Breasts burdened with unfed milk Four o’clock is six o’clock, five-thirty is seven The light closes so softly on the day Everywhere the trees wait, wait Birdsong minimises to a hush Snakes seek respite in the dank dark of fallen leaves There are goosebumps […]

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 […]