She might have felt dizzy, or had a fever that day, and felt unwell. In any case, the black man offered her his bed to lie on, and a book of poetry, by way of remedy.
Another ode to time
Thyme, it was
But yes, this time of year there are Flanders poppies and daisies, the kind whose petals you can count to see if you are loved.
The lasagne connection
The thing that joined my birthday to that of my now deceased beloved woman was lasagne. My birthday is in early February and hers was in mid-March. Thirty years go, when I was twenty-four, I held the first birthday dinner of many for João, on the occasion of her thirty-first birthday. Yes, I served lasagne... Continue Reading →
Mythical
Myth aside, the thing about Aphrodite rising from the waves is that she is no different from countless other women who, each in their own time and their own way, have stood, feet planted in the sand, naked and proud, while the waves and winds swirled about; women who felt strong, so mightily strong and... Continue Reading →
Mark the day
In the early dawn half-light, I lay curled up under the covers like a chongololo.
Alentejo dreaming
The cork trees here were not found in my childhood.
Light relief
The best we can hope for on a Monday is zombie-like efficiency. This means that although the job will get done efficiently, there will be sacrifices. We normally have to contend with an absence of happiness and severe poetry deprivation.
Mind-blowing
Why would I ever want to contemplate my navel again when I can experience nausea by gazing down the abyss of my own spinal column?
Between the lines
It is the place where one notices such things and yet one stares ahead as if half-blind and half-deaf, for this is the permissible response when private drama unfolds in public spaces.
That elusive pair of jeans 