Since before.

I, have a hammock. Somewhere in a drawer is a list of things, like self-improvements, you could say, things I needed, in another life markers of okayness, of moving forwardness. An apartment with a living room A terrace Yoga Work less A hammock That was a long time ago, a lifetime ago, when I stumbled …

Lemon Tree Lament.

I had seen the village between the mountains and the sea, with the flowers that seemed to burst forth from behind every bendy corner every broken wooden fence every ditch beside pot-holed country roads. It was always sunny there and the water was always warm as I floated on my back, looking up at blue …

Auntunno.

Out on the lake which slips by a deep blue full of questions beneath my canoe, I watch the hills. You can only watch something that moves. You look at something stationary. But the hills move,  though imperceptibly (in a manner that is so slight, gradual or subtle so as not to be perceived). They …

Roots.

My tent blew away today, and that is exactly how I feel. I didn’t peg it down, maybe because there was nowhere to peg it, or maybe it was symbolic, who knows. I suppose recently I have developed an aversion to roots, of any kind. Sitting on the porch swing pretending to be writing, willing …