Monthly Archives: October 2018


Who would make art out of a rat and what would a rat know of art Who would imagine a rat, even in their rat language, would understand depth and nuances and ironies What would a rat know of heartache What would a rat know of regret The scream of a rat that pierces the […]


There are still in my head some images of you: the glow of your brow beneath the yellow light, thinking, your body openly relaxed to a class of curious eyes, your vigorous elbow moving in front of the white-board as you wrote. Also, your eyes blinking generously at what annoyed you, the innuendoes, acid in […]

awake with night

i shiver under the covers so i get up and put on a jumper the roads are quiet the street light spreads silver across the lawn in chilly october and i have some warm milk hour after hour passes by i read a little Roth and a short story by Chekhov then a poem by […]


careless and smiling i walk in past the boss’ room he’s already there it’s 8.30 no it’s 9.30 it’s 9.30 such little things ought to be excused after the big things of the weekend it’s time we go home? when i think of the weird spell that hit me the dizziness is insane simply “I […]


Migrant Mother, Nipomo Califormia 1936. Dorothea LANGE¬† ¬† Mrs Immigrant, will you tell me what your children ate and when, if milk is flowing from your breasts what your car tyres yesterday fetched and where the husband went Mrs Immigrant, tell me honestly who walking on the streets looked at you, or not at all […]


So, how did He make the world? How did He make the coffee-coloured cow, the porcelain-white bird? How did He make the river? I mean, this river — the one that is nearly a mile across, the one that is carrying small islands of grass and water hyacinth endlessly down at the pace of midnight […]


1. Garden All afternoon God is streaming in the sunlight casting his 4 o’clock golden ash over the lawn When he lies across the hibiscus her body spreads 2. Forest The pea-hen is writing her story on the brown floor The wombat is asleep in the ground level of his grand tree-house A paper wasp […]