here for wonder

“During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” George Orwell Truth, I cannot forget you. You were so real, so solid and dependable. Also, you were beautiful. So uncompromising as we wrapped and draped our experience around you, moving while you were still. You defined us. You gave us a center to return to. Even when we turned on our heels and extended our division to the very limits of binary opposition, you gave us a way back to each other

Waiting, We are waiting. For death. Comfortable, draped, drooping. Dancing invisible. A static swirl Of silent questions. Why will death Not come? Why hover A resentful cloud Refusing to rain? How long will it take? Are we not there yet? Mr Degas! Where are you going? Home. I am going home. This is your home, Mr Degas. How dare you? How dare you Call this my home. The lady opposite Gathers spilt pepper On a torn-out page. A meditation, A zen garden. She nod

‘Al di la’ is an old Italian song that won the Eurovision singing contest in 1961 and it’s going through my head now, 2018, USA, Boulder, Mapleton Hill, purple storm coming in over the mountains, and me as grown up as I have ever been and currently, at this moment, un-bereaved in any way. It is a mournful song about love and loss made famous by Connie Francis and my head is going ‘round and ‘round singing this and my chest is heavy like iron and my heart feels dead with the d

I thought I could do nuance. I love the word. And there are so many other, quite necessary things I lack, so I was grateful that at least I had that, I had nuance. I fibrillate, I know the spaces between things, therefore I can appreciate nuance. But it turns out that my uncharacteristic confidence in this elusive, shimmering thing has led me down the garden path. Now I have to add this to my very long list of things I need to fix about my personality. I thought my list was l

If I had one night to spend in New York on my way to Africa, I wouldn't have an argument. I’d use my time more wisely. And then of course I would not be me and, to be fair, he would not be him, the stubborn man I married thousands of years ago when I was barely born and knew no better. But, whatever or however a horrible pair we were descending upon this city for that fateful night, it was fortunately not within our nefarious powers to ruin the whole of Manhattan. Just our li

I just walked out of the kitchen without leaving bodies strewn about. But I could have. And I think the way I left might have radiated my nasty. As I walked away and mounted the lovely old stairs towards my bedroom I was whispering a hot rage, a sizzling whisper, that now, thinking about it, you may have heard, like a long hiss from a furious snake. But I carry on walking towards my bedroom and when I am there, smoldering, I pull down the blinds with more impetus than they we

I spend my life chasing light. The way it falls, the luminous petal of it floating on a moonless night. I love the sodden glimmer in a purple sky, the circle of light on a dark street, the lamp on your desk through the window at dusk. So many shades of light, so many textures and shapes of it; contained, concentrated, diffuse, every other cell in the air. Even on an unremarkable day light changes so many times you could stop what you’re doing and be immediately swept up in it

I was enjoying a leisurely bath, reclining in the warm wet, staring out the window at the innocent green of the Ash tree. This time last year a sudden storm froze out the gentle letting go of fall and rolled in a premature shock of winter. In one icy day everything fell, no yellow, no gold, no falling one by one, just one day untouched by autumn and the next all green was gone. Fall. We all fervently hope it won’t do that again. We want time to relish the ache of goodbye, the

And what it does to you. Altitude. The first leg I am between two grumpy men, a sort of filling in a belligerent sandwich. He on the right of me, who I do not know, is sighing and hissing: ‘Jesus Christ” long and drawn out like: Jeeeezus Chrrrrrist. While he on the left of me, who I do know, innocently drones on the phone, and is the cause of the meltdown on my right. Meanwhile the aircraft idles hotly on the Denver runway waiting, waiting for the air above San Francisco to m