Our love is:
wiry grey hair
expanding mid drifts
matching beards
staying up late
reading banned books
loving without a contract
developing age lines
joy to be sleeping in
Living for food, liquids,
travel, love, and peace
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Our love is:
wiry grey hair
expanding mid drifts
matching beards
staying up late
reading banned books
loving without a contract
developing age lines
joy to be sleeping in
Living for food, liquids,
travel, love, and peace
delicate petals
a vase of dying roses and peonies
falling towards a barren, dark place
faint grey light
the flowers start their transformation
they lose their form, fresh scent, dew
empty stems
drying and fading in the dark place
transferred to a bowl with a gold lid
those dry, dead petals remain alive
if only in their dream of eternal love
first flowers
The forest spirit asks, “What do you want the most?”
The child stands on tippy-toes, “I want to snatch at the stars and play with them.”
Gently, the forest spirit asks, “Why?”
“If I play with the stars, I might get stardust to help someone…”.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“My Bear.”

While watching snow upon a branch, the forest spirit turns to see a familiar sight. “Hello, lover of a bear. Why do you carry a pot?”
“Hello! I took your advice and found something to carry the stardust in.”
With a smiling voice, the forest spirit says, “Come along then, let’s find you some stars to snatch and play with”.
Leaving only one set of footprints in the snow, the forest spirit and the girl walk further into the forest.

“Where are we going?”
Without looking down at the girl, the forest spirit says, “We won’t be going too far.”
“Bear will be cross if we travel too far… oh, look! Snow carpet!.”
Jovially, the forest spirit says, “Snow carpet? That’s a new one.”
“Bear would love it.”

A Bullfinch sings. The forest spirit turns and smiles.
Watching the forest spirit and the bird, the girl unwittingly says, “What does he say…”
“How do you know we are speaking?”
“I feel it.”
“…The Bullfinch speaks of a blizzard.’
“Mum says they’re like a cyclone.”
“Your Mum misses home.”

“Come, let’s find some stardust before it gets dark.”
Thinking of rolling and tumbling, the little girl says, “The snow is like powder here!”
Thinking about how much the girl has made her smile, the forest spirit dives into the snow; the little girl follows.”

The forest spirit says, “We must go! Snow will start falling soon.”
Getting to her feet, they restart the journey.
Along the path, they see a Troll sitting in the forest.
“Should we go and address him? He looks sad.”
“Trolls are troublesome. Come, I will take your pot.”

“I think we won’t get you back home before dark. Stardust is hard to find.”
Weary from walking, the girl says, “I would like rest. It is bitterly cold now.”
“Perhaps the church will be a good place to stop…”
“Churches are scary. I haven’t been since my Bear took me in.”
Wryly, the forest spirit says, “This church is not scary. You’ll see. Take my arm.”

Theodore Kittelsen, Church in the Snow, 1907
The forest spirit and the girl stand side by side in silence.
They do not speak, for this is a rare and lovely night.
Nostalgic and full of love, the forest spirit touches the pot as stardust falls from the stars for her only friend’s Bear.

Theodore Kittelsen, A Nordic Fever
The forest spirit thinks about the years she walked alone, placing one foot in front of the other. An imagined sorrow clouds her mind.
Then, out of the dark, the girl says, “Do you want to come home and meet Bear?”
Unaware of her smile, she says, “I’d love to.”

Theodore Kittelsen, Sorgen/the woe, 1894-95
Before the forest spirit and the girl leave, they take turns counting the stars.
Excited, the girl says, “I want to pick a star for you.”
Not sure what to say, the forest spirit watches and waits for the girl to choose the star.
“That one! That’s your star!”
“What a star this is! I will place it in my crown and keep it with me always”.

Elusive and beautiful
walking away, always walking away
to somewhere distant
A willing receiver of
her witchcraft and the many spells she
casts unwittingly
Touching dewy skin,
forever locked within her jet-pack embrace,
dreaming up a fiction
again
I was there,
there in that place,
I was there.
You took my hand,
in that place,
You took my hand.
We were one,
within philosophy,
We were one.
They used theology,
torn asunder,
They used theology.
This is what we were,
killed for love,
This is what we were
and what we remain.
I saw her when she was relatively young,
gloomy and sulking for the first few years.
I never thought twice about her and me,
the grumbles and gloom would pass away.
I saw her when she started to see me,
she had shallow roots and disliked the frost.
I never thought she would ask me to stay,
when she bloomed, she took my breath away.
your unforgettable fire
lashes my skin
until we burn so bright
A meeting
Anticipation starts to grip tightly
Pacing about
Some say we’re all destined for one
It’s awkward
Then they meet in the city of light
Instant love
a deepness,
longing endlessness,
a depth of madness,
a darkness,
from much sadness,
a lightness,
innamorato brightness.

From the blue;
Grey tears fall
down, onto
straightforward skin.
The sweetest agony must be
endured
and
endured
for uncomplicated love.