invitation to the monsoon arrive at the dip in the day everywhere, a lull unfold differently – heedless, hushed assume a hidden dimension between salt and waves listen long: the sea bluffs shingle of shells, poker chip pebbles bring cinnamon tea and the chords of no moon at all
Grandpa’s story: Tea in the army Grandpa said that he had ended up, he didn’t know how in the army as a cook, though he had no cooking experience. He soon learned. So he taught me how to make a stew ‘forces style’ and how to cut carrots into the required regimented shapes. And he
OPEN FOR BUSINESS Summer is now officially open for business! Potted plants lined up outside the local bazaar, An embarrassment of dazzling colour on special offer The British male adopts a raffish bohemian air Donning his Jesus sandals with white socks Local girls fall out of noisy bars and skimpy outfits little left to the
An Emperor Penguin in Summer The Emperor’s wardrobe is expanding, he spouts new retro designs. The crowds go wild with wonder at his literary lines. Old words, new ears, expletives to allay our fears: he isn’t past it yet – just resting.
SECRET GARDENS Movement in time blurs the speed of light; my eyes can’t keep up with the past. I’ll stand ever the hero, fly into battle grab leaves and grain here, mushrooms there. Hear the music, solid as oak trees, like rented witchcraft spelling out reality, settling old stories in new plans, underpinning foundations. Grate
In memory of Eugenie M. Shakhovskaya She was the night, forgotten, erased by several feet of snow. She was the morning when frost feathers glinted on glazed surfaces. She was the storm that razed the Tsar’s house to the ground. She was the laughter that lingered on the KGB men’s lips all morning. She
long meg and her daughters what enchantment is this? what secret sorcery? what magic and mystery is abroad in the air this evening around the ancient stone circle this summer solstice in cumbria? the standing stones lean forward as if they have a secret to tell to anyone who cares to listen it is
I’d held you in the cup of my hands so scared I might crush you. So gentle, so tiny, soooo cute. Your piercing big eyes melted hearts of monsters, drawing oooos and ahhhhs. The times I thought I’d lost you, like when they had to operate, and you refused to eat paté. But here you