Sunday, August 26

I would like to pretend that work is all consuming and that it eats into my me-time. Which it does to an extent. But my world is shifting, my rock is leaving. The shift is irrevocable in nature. I'm not sure how to react. I'm going to be devastated, I'm going to miss him. It's like losing your collective memories of eating Gems. Which makes no sense to you, but I guess I can't explain.
My entire family, it's like we're holding in our breath, bracing for the punch. We're not sure what it will be like, we're happy and optimistic and we're proud. Everything is bittersweet :)
I wish to lay my soul bare. Suggestions will be appreciated. I'm grateful yo :)

Sunday, August 5


The day flies off without me

The planes bound for all points everywhere
etch lines on my office window. From the top floor
London recedes in all directions, and beyond:
the world with its teeming hearts.

I am still, you move, I am a point of reference on a map;
I am at zero meridian as you consume the longitudes.
The pact we made to read our farewells exactly
at two in the afternoon with you in the air
holds me like a heavy winter coat.

Your unopened letter is in my pocket, beating.

- John Stammers

Pins, ash and an exquisite corpse.
The downy feel of your poem.