Born this April day: George who fights, the Bard who writes And then there is you.
Jubilant palm leaves, Waiting for his feet to tread over. Watch them cheer! A dying King waits for you to sing his death song, Carrying a cross. You remember this, Stuck in traffic waiting for the lights to go green.
What to do today - wallow in despair or weep? I choose sleep instead.
You come to bed late, crawl under the sheets, You’re restlessly turning and kneading my feet, I can’t help but wonder just where you have been But I can’t ask you questions, or make a loud scene. I’m pliantly yielding as you climb onto me, You don’t ask for permission - you assume my body … Continue reading Profligate Pussy
For Liz Stanley - who was right (sort of). ‘Remember to write whilst working down there.’ You’re wilting already under her Basilisk stare, ‘Bang out an article whilst you sit on the plane, Bang out more articles you’re halfway to fame’. For five years you lectured, marked essays and read, But those infamous … Continue reading On (not) Writing
Grey gulls sky surfing, Trembling daffodils cower in the lashing sleet.
One day for women To give cards and gifts that say Hooray for this day!