Why is it all about the ‘base’?

but they still talk about the Trumpist base
all ‘bout the base, not justice,
but some of that Trumpist base are fascists
it’s ’bout that base, ’bout that base, not justice
it’s all ’bout that base, ’bout that base …

Mother Mezuzah; a Tree of Life Tale

Becca lived with her dad, Jo, and her younger sibling, Jacob, near the city park. From her bedroom window in their attic, some of the remaining trees of an ancient forest seemed to spill into their garden. Everyday her dad would put Jacob in a toddler carrier on his back and they’d welcome the day…

To Celebrate Life

I eat nuts with coats hard to crack, learn to peel a pomegranate, knowing there are things unknowable; inedible, like shells, but beneath that are healthful wonders that shine as pearls, such are the deepest mysteries wrapped in garments that help shield the world, I eat soft fruits with hard, uneaten pits, sweet ripe plums,…

Valcamonica; the last mountain (#WritePhoto)

August 2015 travelogue: Valcamonica, Italy The last mountain I climbed was a place I saw art that has spoken to our kin over millennia. It still offers a signpost to wonderers and wanderers today.  I won’t kid around, the journey was hard; I could hardly walk, even then, plus my asthma wasn’t under control but…

Strange Sights

I do not get out as often as I’d like due to severe mobility & health issues. Seeing the world from up on high, complete with aerial views of early autumn hills and human habitats, is a rare thing for anyone, especially those with special access needs. Last weekend I went on a cable car…

Real Fantasy

(post formally called ‘the magic touch’) I love magical realism, the unexplained sitting side by side with routine, reasoned reality.  Perhaps I love it because in truth reality rarely appears very reasonable. My fascination may in part be because that taste of magic fulfills in me a yearning for everyday enchantment, but not too much…

Saffron Shores (art and poem)

Thieve me into relief or sleep,

Steal me onto far saffron shores

Where Valerian seas beget

Rests thirstier than nutmeg thoughts

Thieve me into relief or sleep.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

Equinox

Equinox,

wets paint for sunsets

stroking sky

stretching age,

etching gold with eager hands,

gilt votives in shades.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

The Good, The Bad, the Ugly

Hello All, Apologies for not posting in quite a while. This is the good, the bad and the ugly and the hopeful reasons why. As many of you who follow this blog will know, I have to battle a complex mix of disabilities and health challenges. Early this year I gained two more diagnoses, for…