Midautumn

By morning the lanterns hung sobbing, their colours puddling like dew in the carpet grass, the fresh breeze rattled their wood. One or two had burnt up, left metal racks behind. The frangipani lifts its face to the bluegrey dawn and remembers the night of the autumn moon, its branches Read more…

The sky, the sea, the dog

The big sky laps the wooden planks, string bean poles hold nothing but themselves, sticking out like a ratted wall on both sides, it and its reflection. The sea is something spiritual to me, said the round woman, on the dark-sand beach. The dog we watch with a wary eye Read more…

Why I write about Love

Love isn’t something you choose. It chooses you. And then you respond, because it loves you so dearly it erodes like the gentle erosion of the rocks by the water, your ability to choose at all. It comes to you unbidden, like the sun spilling on the leaves, which raise Read more…

Rokujō

I can imagine the look on her face now filled with fright as something clutches her from somewhere out of nowhere, catching in her throat, just as you enter her, the look on your face printed in her eye. In there, in that eye, you will see my face, my Read more…