January 19


Paradise is not on the schedule or the route map. And so
we’re going to pick apples. Yes, it’s January, but what the hell.

January 18


A poem about a knapsack or a rucksack or some kind of sack –
anyway, it was a poem about a sack. On the face of it.

January 17


Night is when the world comes alive.
And we miss it all.

(for M.T.)

January 16


Is that lipstick he’s wearing? Surely not.
It must be a trick of the light, or sleight of hand,
seeing something that is or is not there.
They teach you about things of that sort at metaphysical workshop.

January 15


The music is fading as Hortense throws the letter on to the bonfire in the corner of the room.
If only she had not had that extra helping of nothing she would not feel so dizzy and giddy now.
It’s only her astronaut training that’s keeping her upright.

January 14


Mallory was perhaps rather boring, but he was very well-qualified and stored lots of useless and useful information. He knew that bays form when weak (less resistant) rocks (such as sands and clays) are eroded, leaving bands of stronger (more resistant) rocks (such as chalk, limestone, granite) forming a headland, or peninsula, and that through the deposition of sediment within the bay and the erosion of the headlands, coastlines eventually straighten out then start the same process all over again, and he would tell people about all of that knowledge and data while recommending what kind of hat to wear when heading out.

January 13


Today we begin work on The Wasted Years
Although it’s difficult to know where to start

January 12


It is true that every new premier and every new government, coming in because they had upheld a certain thing as necessary to be done, were no sooner come in than they applied their utmost faculties to discovering How not to do it. It is true that from the moment when a general election was over, every returned man who had been raving on hustings because it hadn’t been done, and who had been asking the friends of the honourable gentleman in the opposite interest on pain of impeachment to tell him why it hadn’t been done, and who had been asserting that it must be done, and who had been pledging himself that it should be done, began to devise, How it was not to be done.

             – Charles Dickens, from Little Dorrit, Chapter X

January 11


freezing time
while my heart is refreshed

January 10


running water where I bathe
my heart