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september
that day. that september day when the stifling summer releases its grip. when the air is crisp with a universe of possibilities.
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roads
exhale. what is there to say about the roads we drove in the middle of the world? i remember the bumps less, it’s always the way with hindsight. the discomforts, the lack, the pain. these evaporate quickly, though they take up our whole field of vision at the time. bumps, bumps, bumpy, i thought maybe…
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records
amazing how it fades in. on vinyl, you can’t rewind, and the main point of the listening is not so much even the music, but the journey. there is no backtracking to the nostalgic songs. no skipping the ones you don’t prefer. no pause button. writing, i want to put a song on repeat, because…
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annabel
overcoming the voices in you that tell you you aren’t good enough. that you are terrible. where do these voices come from? childhood wounds. something someone said once. can i learn to harmonise? i asked, age 8ish. no, you can’t even sing. what did she say? you need to be able to at least sing…
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ode to sirius
if i could chance to pluck a star and place it on your desk i’d wrangle down cool sirius – he’s brighter than the rest. i should really like to gather venus from the sky not for all time, but just a night to read you stories by. we might go wading in the thames…
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two poems from 2004
last week, a trip back to new mexico unearthed many memories, feelings, a person from a lifetime ago, and a journal from my first trip to china. these are two poems written during that summer, which the universe seems to have circled back on now, 14 years later. ‘poem from a nanjing evening’ – 30…
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paths i’ve walked before
walking along a portion of the north downs way, unexplainable experiences. i’ve never walked here before. otherwise known as the pilgrims way in reference to the fact that pilgrims have come here to walk along the route that st augustine (of canterbury) trod from lyons and rome to canterbury in the late 500s. the sun…
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independence day
it’s late afternoon in 1988 and we are in the car – my dad’s AMC eagle with faux wood panels down the sides. no air conditioning, and it’s hot in early july. a dry, still new mexico heat, the kind that makes your hair go all static-y and melts the plastic on the steering wheel…
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Megan Eaves-Egenes 