May 03, 2010

The curious incident of the rum in the night time

The louche charms of overt Cambridge man

that ebb and break, climax in cyberspace

as rum develops the drunken young lamb,

white wine signals another change of pace.


Now Cambridge man abeds with open bin,

graceless fragrance floating through the window

blocked by a dustpan and locked from within.

Soiled jumper cries with dignities widow.

May 02, 2010


With that the sleazy visitors,

twisting from their old porous haunts,

descend again. They lost their cause

when sinew snapped and fled from flawless

plans, despite the waning looks. Gaunt,

shying from the shaved, shining gaze

of lustrous eyes, the luscious fawn,

that fled the hunter and was gone.

Guarding innocence, broke the haze.

Fur intact, unpierced by spear heads,

the fawn, dazed, lay hidden in shade

(with teardrops for romance waylaid).

Drag Day Blues

From the hung over balcony I

Espied a fairytale in rainbow:

Men in women, women in guys

and gin and tonic to hide the lies.

lustrous lips bedecked by sprouting barbs,

and sunglasses to cover cheekbones.

purple dress, swaying but a few yards

from clueless onlookers, who tried hard

to witness blatant debauchery.

'Not me!' they cried, but, oh  so funny

drag day blues never so plain to see,

on a Sunday in N'Orleans city.

April 12, 2010

Demeter's Daughter

He pulled at the thread as her dress unwound

And a world unravelled its modesties.

The splitting green weave tumbled to the ground,

Revealing formerly unseen bodies.


Now he strokes skin with filthy fingers,

And she circles behind to surround

Him. Their uncoiling bodies linger,

As the last thread falls to earth, resounding,


Sparking earthquakes in the old vale,

Treeless from efforts to bring the

Land into line, (the desired dale),

With his expectations of her.


She, relieved, lies as he takes

Liberties under a veil

Of tenderness; hidden aches

As he breaks her, makes her frail.


The vale is overrun,

As the quake tremors shake

Her contours, she's undone;

Releasing breathy gales


That tear through hair as

She sits in sun,

Caught unawares,

Wanting someone.


With morning

Dawn birds blare.

Perched mourning

Homes, they dare


To cry,


The sky



So sits the unravelled dress on the ground,

Sweat sodden symbol of a world unwound.

March 31, 2010

Christmas Trees

She saw me shining,

big as a tree,

in the beatnik hostel in Montreal City,

with too much coffee

and not enough sleep,

I played the flagging eyelid dance,

and kept drinking without a peep.


Neither here nor there,

I'm stuck in Laterrière.

A place of non-entities,

that drives even the sanest men spare.


It's far too cold

to go outside,

but we'll go anyway,

to keep the British drinking culture alive.


It's nice to be cultured once in a while.

Socks and Sandals

This is where my body ends,

my knobbled little toes

unfurled from a sandal hole.

From those toes, I suspend

a sense of tension as I step;

who knows where the toes

will land?

Be it bright grass,

gravly sand,






Rolling out from

the old scolded

sky that tried

to fly above itself,

to find an inconsistent

shelf of inhibition,

blocking its exhibition

of insipient individualism.

An Older Audience

The day the dusty people came:

descended on the house like

little greying bees.

they buzzed,

and fussed,

and dropped their dust,

and dissapeared

in the early morning.

October 2022

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