The 23rd
in memory of George Stewart
It casually loiters in the fourth line
of April, pretending not to stalk me,
the expiry date on David's passport
and the start of a trade fair in Brussels.
It knows full well you chose your namesake's day
to die, as if you were somehow afraid
I might forget. As if I ever could.
from The Knives of Villalejo (Eyewear Publishing, 2017)
This breathtaking haiku has reminded me that I need to make sure I blog a
little more frequently. Things are very much in flux for me at the moment,
but wh...
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