These days, I'm mostly posting over at Minimal to the Max.

Posted an article written by Mary de Muth to the minimalmax blog. Enjoy the read.

Here's a link to the Hope Away from Home blurb: http://www.omflit.com/home/events.php?i=17

Yayness :)

Good Neighbours
for Mieke from Chie


1.

Mieke's in my garden
patting down earth
around

late winter violets
and a sprig of aster

It'll grow, she says.

It's small now, but it'll grow.

And I stand beside her
arms dangling at my sides

not knowing how to say
thank you.

2.

There's a sign outside her door
that says

"Sold".

In the spring
she'll be moving house

and I wonder what it will be like
to live without

the sound of her son
playing clarinet

in the upstairs bedroom.

3.

I think of all the seasons of the year
of all the days that have turned
into weeks and months

I think of Mieke's arm around my shoulders
and her voice
telling me
it's all right to cry

and I think
of asters

and violets
and

how all things bloom again
in spring.

some fotos

On birthday morning, Joel had to go treasure hunting for coins strewn among the decorations along the window ledge and hidden underneath the breakfast placemats.

Dear folks at home -- There's that lovely capiz lamp I told you all about. Fancy finding one in Laura Ashley's (Utrecht).

Our two boys in the pen ;) Secretly put on the blog while Joel wasn't looking.

Joel's birthday cake.

Joel and Mieke on his birthday. Joel's enjoying some of that Mama-made fried chicken a la KFC.

I'm off to The Hague today. Spreading the Hay(na)ku love--I'm going to give UK based writer/poet Crista Ermiya a copy of the first Hay(na)ku Anthology.

wat ik eigenlijk wou zeggen. . .

I've posted something on minimal to the max which has to do with my own struggle with the culture. If you want to read it, go there.

what we find when we rummage through old files

I recently read and reviewed a huge book of poems for Munting Nayon. Looking through old files, I found this poem from so many years ago and can't help but think of how poetry captures emotion and can carry us back to where we were when the words came to us.

If I, with the power of my pen,
could bring you
from distant land
from a foreign clime
to this country I belong to
to this cradle that is mine.

I would hold you
in the warmth of a love
only I can know how to give…

If I, with the strength of my yearning,
with all the fury that is mine…
could travel across space
could tread galaxies and time…

I would go
to be held safe
in your arms forevermore...