Bright as the sun

At four o’clock, conscious of his throbbing heart, Levin stepped out of a hired sledge at the Zoological Gardens, and turned along the path to the frozen mounds and the skating ground, knowing that he would certainly find her there…

It was a bright, frosty day. Rows of carriages, sledges, drivers, and policemen were standing in the approach. Crowds of well-dressed people, with hats bright in the sun, swarmed about the entrance and along the well-swept little paths between the little houses adorned with carving in the Russian style. The old curly birches of the gardens, all their twigs laden with snow, looked as though freshly decked in sacred vestments.

He walked along the path towards the skating-ground, and kept saying to himself—“You mustn’t be excited, you must be calm. What’s the matter with you? What do you want? Be quiet, stupid,” he conjured his heart. And the more he tried to compose himself, the more breathless he found himself… He walked on a few steps, and the skating-ground lay open before his eyes, and at once, amidst all the skaters, he knew her.

He knew she was there by the rapture and the terror that seized on his heart… There was apparently nothing striking either in her dress or her attitude. But for Levin she was as easy to find in that crowd as a rose among nettles. Everything was made bright by her. She was the smile that shed light on all round her. “Is it possible I can go over there on the ice, go up to her?” he thought. The place where she stood seemed to him a holy shrine, unapproachable, and there was one moment when he was almost retreating, so overwhelmed was he with terror. He had to make an effort to master himself, and to remind himself that people of all sorts were moving about her, and that he too might come there to skate. He walked down, for a long while avoiding looking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does the sun, without looking.

‘Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, chapter 9.’


Reading into you
Searching endlessly
For the same page
The right script
The best score
The only beat
In time with
Baton flick
By some one called fate
The world an immense
Library of works
I wander in that palace
Of my mind for that one
Story where we meet
Before the final scene
Where we crescendo to
The lasting peace
The rest of history


Thoughts crowded out
Like street nights
Festival lights
Past midnight
Holding open space
Reflecting on
Celebrations alike
No way to put
My finger on it
Taint with print
Hot to touch
Can't switch it off
Bask in its glow
Round the clock
Source metered out
In the dark
Tales tools of trade
Our words live on

Part of your world

'Bright young women
Ready to stand

Ready to know
What the people know

Ask them my questions
And get some answers

When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love?

Love to explore
That shore up above

Wandering free

Wish I could be
Part of your world'

~Ariel, 1989. (C) Disney
Part of that world, by Jodi Benson
The Little Mermaid, illustration by Edmund Dulac

Book Fetish

Under covers 
Slide between sheets
Fingers fondle
Turn a new leaf

Entering into
Worlds unseen
Stars in eyes
Hold and breathe

Drama unfolding
Pushing bounds
Reality dissolves
Dreams are found

Singers bellow
Dancers twirl
Look no further
Bookish girls

Little did she know

The tragedy of poetry
Is how Atwood sees
As the words are written
Inspired event complete

Like an epitaph
To memory in bold
Detail delightful sighting
Though future is untold

No assurance can be given
By simply putting down
Ink to paper, finger tap
All prophecy unfounded

Into future like Le Guin
A new world expounded
If all society's whisper
In amplified stereo sound

A foot tapping, toe curling
Secret I keep
That all stories begin and end
With us somewhere in between
Eucalyptus globulus, Tasmanian blue gum


To have words trampled
Beneath the cart wheels
On the streets
of old St Petersburg
Crimes a mystery
Hung backlit
By brazen streetlight
Broken, worn, blue
Time it takes
To decide ~ are they done?
Will they heal?
Slowly drip feeding
Stew of broth
Building marrow
Until the shine
In the eyes returns
Upon hearing
A chorus
Seeing a glorious
Image of affection
At mere mention
A novel moment
Produces a turrent
Cascading into
Rivers winding
Bringing life
Bearing it to sea
Setting free