Chant du Cygne November is notoriously contrary, but this delicious afternoon I headed for the beach. You’d not suppose that marching to the tide-edge, preceded by a fifty-kilo brute buck-leaping backwards, would trigger musing. But as he sniffs my pocket, woofs and circles, frantic to play fetch, I find myself by chance upon a busman’s…
In the woods When we arrived up north, my first thought was that I had never been surrounded by so much country before. I thought places like this just existed in movies, an exaggeration to show that a town was isolated and set in its ways. But everywhere I looked I could see old rusted…
TRIBUTE TO A PAUPER (A MAN OF LITTLE WORTH) I come to your grave, O man of little worth, to pay salute to you who lies underneath this sepulchre. Behold I, who has come—wetting your grave with tears—to speak to you. O man of little worth, who in his own days could barely afford decent…
empty glass on picnic table Look at that empty glass 100% full of air; & 100% full of light also in there. That’s two hundred percent at once simultaneously occupying the same space in perfect harmony. Look at that empty glass in which space of totality seems so central to the glass but basks…
Pale Hours He stared at the fake fireplace, which was struggling to pass off electric heat for the real thing. Silence filled the hall. In his contemplation, he had turned his back on the whole world. Maintaining the charade of the wise man in deep thought, he could still sense quite clearly the tense anticipation…