Diachrony

Anglo versus antipodal. GMT / PST. Almost-not-quite the International Date Line. But she remains ahead. London slumbering while I teach. Springtide studying while I stumble into the autumnal equinox. Each day exchanging a half-life of this loneliness.

meridian lines
the dissonance
in our slang

In a Contingent Space of Possibility

a white-haired woman is writing the story of my life. She has no talent for this. The plot meanders, dialog stutters, scenes fracture. Unbound from ambition she renders me mute, the lines of my face eluded.

ebb tide
the sea breeze salts
tangled hair