Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Natur

Why?

why am I woman and not apple blossom bee grass blue heron seabed? the same cosmic black tongue coiling around them all and licking the plate clean.
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Corsica 2026

I returned to Corsica after 21 years, the same way a grown woman revisits her first love trying to understand what might have been and what she missed back then.Corsica outside the tourist season is the kind of rough gem you explore at the pace of your own breath. It is a proud mare no…
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Toamna (haiku)

Înflăcărarea se stinge în râuri moi de pace mută.
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No photos

Crows on a dying treetop, scattered on its bare branches before taking flight. Crickets in grass, loud, and reeds slowly slanting below blue mountains, crimson suns and clouds like cotton of the purest white. I take no photos and no hostages from this: I simply watch how the marvels explode on an organic retina that…
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Și de sus ninge cu pene

Fă-mă arbore, îi șoptesc nucului, cu trupul cald lipit de trunchiul lui rece și aspru, să întind brațe interminabile către cer, din care să îmi crească alte brațe și tot așa, să adun cu ele lumina – mai multă! mai multă! – să mă hrănesc cu ea, să văd de sus lumea cum treceprin timp…
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On Leaving My Walled Garden

I hugged each tree trunk one by one, caressed each stalk, each stem, each textured leaf, each evanescent petal that now is a fresh-scented pink and by dawn, sallow, already reeks of wilted tissue and, with eyes closed,I breathed. I breathed and I touched. I mapped bark creases and crevasses, patterns of smoothness and ridges,…
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Saying Goodbye to a Tree

I hugged the tree in my garden yesterday as it spread its arms out into that empty space that summer weaves out of vapor and linden fragrance. I hugged my tree yesterday held it tight bark against cheek and whispered my goodbyes. It felt rooted and rough I entered its shy shade like one enters a…
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Carpathian cow-keeper

Come, come look at the cows, he says, just cross this little brook, don’t worry it is not too cold, and never mind this blue rope here, I will untie it in no time. I wrap it ‘round the bushes so the cows think it’s electric and don’t get away I tend to about 20…
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As mourning follows night*

back home I sleep with my ears unplugged the windows flung wide open into the guzzling night I remain watchful here, in the places my people have – one by one –trickled into the fatty earth I dive into the holes they left – deep dark enticing pools of fresh darkness – I eavesdrop: the…
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Today

be quiet with me after the rain in the rejuvenated world count all the fallen petals bask in the timorous sun the bulbous wet sweetness of soon-to-be-fruit the snail’s past trailing behind him like a wedding gown kneel down, put your good ear to the ground be silent listen to the breathing the throbbing this…
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Have you?

Have you completed the sacraments of life? Have you bowed to the April sunrise? Have you worshipped the brightness and the honeyed light dripping on the fresh leaves? Have you helped a blind mole across the gravel road and kept it safe from the fury of bikers? Have you touched bark or beetle and gladly…
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Springtide

Heat. April heat. Deep, penetrating. This afterwinter sky – unfamiliar, molten, aglow – splurges on timid leaves, permeates clothes,and burrows into skin. Out by the river I am sitting on a log. The gulls have just taken off, shrieking, treading water, flapping their wings against the dormant, mirror-cold, reflected images of trees. Seconds later, suspended,…
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