mattlaneydotcom

He haunts me, suddenly now at times, my father’s shade; after almost ten years: he’s there in those early pre-dawn times when the ghosts run on the bedroom walls and I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts and, childlike, I keep my eyes shut, and I wonder if I did enough, if I made him… — read more

Light walks in the shadows; the world grows dark. And cold. And Yama first arrived at this notion in a time different from now when, in the few final weeks before his mother’s death, he would write haibun during his visits to her in hospice in the quiet moments while she slept, which grew in… — read more

Fascinating as I get older and I see my father’s hands; only they’re mine. — read more

Back in the dayz when she and I would occasionally participate in two-person naked badminton, the shuttlecock constantly in play. What a racquet we made. — read more

And the World does abide regardless of our intentions. — read more

Late Summer and a Man of no importance rushes languid Time—the Scarecrow Falls eyes on the waiting leaves. — read more

Subtlety, in demarcations; The River of Heaven’s terminus Embarks from my backyard pond — read more

A Life forever; until it ends. — read more

Scrapping up against the Belly of Life looking for the Six Pack of Explanation and finding none, my thirst unquenched after all these decades and knowing Departure awaits, and I’m no longer young. — read more

Saw some begonias earlier today, and got lost in thoughts of our long ago weekend in Whitby when we were young and when we had driven up from Bedford and exited the A1 north of Leeds and traveled through the Yorkshire Moors under a slate grey sky, and stopped for tea and thought of “Wuthering… — read more