Whistling for Moonbeams

Someone asks a question and suddenly there is a click from the lock. The utterance of a name is an invisible hand that turns the knob, that ...

How I would like to believe in tenderness- The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes. I ha...

For we are ether

An excerpt from George Eliot's "Silly Novels by Lady Noveslists", which A.S. Byatt quotes in her book, Passions of the Mind: ...

There are no unwashed dishes in the sink, no garbage to be thrown out. The floor is clean, the bed is made. I am staring at the day.

Recent events in my friends' lives (and, for the longest time, mine) have made me start thinking of Pygmalion: he of the famed myth, he ...

The cloud formations I was trying to read before the afternoon started drawing to its close have already fallen to the ground, a grand cacop...

But how to keep at imagery, and how to fill a page? There's anguish in this state. There's anguish in this state.

I missed the sunrise and didn't feel sorry for it. I looked up and saw cobwebs in the ceiling's corners. The sunlight did nothing ex...

Most of the time, I make a decision to not judge you. What you have done to me, you must have done unwittingly. What you have taken, you m...

At least three people have told me I remind them of a hippie. Maybe it's the stuff in my wardrobe; maybe it's my hair. Or, maybe i...

I'd forgotten to put pepper on the omelette. The mind is a convoluted sheet of canvass, with no room for pepper, or for love. Joan Did...

And because I thrive on incoherence, I will make an omelette today. The chopped onions and tomatoes should go well with last night's rai...

" We don't forget, but something vacant settles in us." -Roland Barthes Settling takes time. Some things take hours, othe...

You tell me you've been walking at night. You've been waking up in the middle of some moonlight-swathed hour, always elsewhere from ...

During a Booksale hunt this afternoon, I saw a copy of Jonathan Franzen's Freedom,  dirt-cheap at PhP115, but couldn't find it in my...

I am drawing shadows for you to disappear in. I put on one dark hue after another, so no light can pass through--until no question is left o...

I cannot have you follow me this way--

Reading the final pages of Fanny Howe's The Winter Sun , I was struck by the similar thread through which most of what I had read in the...

A Starbucks table napkin found, stuck between pages 156 and 157 of a book--a collection of essays, to be specific--told me I might have brou...

It is when the losses--gathered, counted--seem at their most, that the hands start teaching themselves to unlearn the act of grasping.

They stand there, bodies and faces so close, that from a distance, the picture they paint is one of nearness, of intimacy. They are obliviou...

1. at the approaching sight of pain, turn into stone 2. at the scent of pain, close into a bud 3. at the threat of pain, curl into a ...

I've just had a very long, eventful weekend. And though it seems that the proper thing to do right now is to write about it, all I feel ...

“I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwi...

The clock said 12:52 when I glanced up at it from the plate of greens I was picking on. A peek out the window yielded a sight of bluish/purp...

Sunlight slanting over surfaces is a breathtakingly beautiful thing. Like sadness, sometimes. Or, certainty. Throw in particles of dust (s...

Knowing all that you do, now, you should no longer be surprised. It isn't pain that hardens us, but the decision that comes after.  T...

And because I insist on images, I draw blanks. One after another, empty and unperturbed. I wonder about the soul in things, turning them i...

"I am deliberate and afraid of nothing." -Audre Lorde Today, I take a pause, to celebrate the women I know, have known,...

these are what I came up with: A list of things to do, two items in all. A bunch of keys, minus one key. A view from a window, moonlit a...

It is inevitable that they come along; first, one, and then, the other. Along with trailing noises--a puppy's bark, some jazz--and the d...

I continue to astound myself with my own contradictions. When will the heart ever learn? The years have failed to teach.

II. Orpheus Falls Who has not heard the Poet's lament/ for one descended into dream's dark stairs?...

the things we love demand more love,/ as if we have always been capable of it. Yet/ I can only offer belief, mirages that mean water,/ long ...

I was taught Art--fed books for breakfast, given songs to wipe my tears with, pushed to poetry for solace--and it is through Art's glass...

I promised myself I'd catch up on all the sleep I keep losing during my work week, but here I am, with my cup of coffee, reading and scr...

"I choose a color and it connotes sadness./ But how long must the symbols remain true? Blue/ is blue, not lonely. After a time, one giv...

After my recent bout with the flu, here comes the itching in my hands. The unbearable urge to scratch is once more a constant companion, wit...

Going through this blog reminded me that David Foster Wallace's been dead for four years. I didn't realize so much time has passed s...

So this morning I find out that Ebert gave "Shame" and "Cloud Atlas" 4 stars, "Melancholia", 3 and a half, and...

This preoccupation with loss. This fear of what the next moment will have in its hands, or already does. Ah, my mind. What...

"But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; whenever it, th...

Propitious that I should find my way back to this book at a time like this, when the losses seem at their most, scattered at my feet like fa...

Endearments, Endings, Ennui, Entropy.

This rain, that sky. The weather reports have unanimously decided that the best place to be, right now, is indoors. The pots on the wall are...

As protest to the so-called Cybercrime Prevention Law, this blog is temporarily closing down.

One of the worst places to be in is between laughter and tears. There is that series of seconds tracing indecision that is almost painful es...

This morning, I watched the sky turn from black, to indigo, to sienna-tinged, to powder-blue. Along the lines, I remember thinking it was a ...

Peace comes settling, at last. Evening bears no more threats; there are less shadows when the sun rises. The doubtful mind, programmed from ...