Prologue

This is the last prayer in the book
of black prayers a last
passionate yes

Against bad timing & bad luck


So begins one of my favorite poems, “No Heaven” by David St. John. I suspect I am one of the four people in the world who has read it. The poet, his editor, Mrs. St. John (if she exists), and myself. And now you.

Come closer, won’t you? No. All the way over. There now. Lean in. I shall whisper to you a secret.

I have another blog, a blog I shan’t mention or link here. It is for… well, let us skip that, shall we? It seems it really doesn’t really matter, after all.

This blog is to explore the landscape of my heart, the flesh, the shards, even the ice. I won’t promise to tell you facts, but I will promise to tell you the truth. A truth which often has little, if anything, to do with facts.

This is my heart.