Plant Blindness

This morning I woke up in the dark.
With pain in my stomach and the voice of the radio newsreader.
Yet the day felt clean. Birds sang along the railway track.

At Brussels Central Station I saw a beggar with a bloodstained face
who no one seemed to see. I asked if I could help. I couldn’t.
Even though I know all about being invisible.

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Signs of life

After all these years you still don't know
how to live, just like every night you
seem to have forgotten how to fall asleep.

It feels indeed like falling
into the arms of the unknown
that you should have been
familiar with by now.

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Chronic

I'll just have to learn to live with it
said the specialist who casually diagnosed an illness
which he didn't explain, which I had never heard of
but from which I had been suffering for years
and that maybe it was partly my own fault.

I shouldn’t have been so eager to live.

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Loam

We are made up of layers.

Like this landscape that
reads like an old book.

Crooked apple trees with names
reminding me of a song
that hasn’t echoed
over these hills for a long time.

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My poem Chronic in Pleiades

My poem Chronic was published in the Spring 2024 edition of Pleiades, in the special folio ‘On Disability’. Pleiades: Literature in Context is published twice a year by the University of Central Missouri and features work from both established and upcoming writers from around the world.

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