Gazing, as we do

At the beginning of this month I wrote of the bumper crop of archive poems for November. Here are the last few from the files of 2012 and 2013: A Bequest of Wonder, a poem inspired by a painted banner of Chinese silk, a Chinese artist’s portrait and two detailed Shunga prints. I do. Do you?, in which all the antics

To the Valleys

Over the hills in this fulsome of seasons, the rains trigger migration of hartebeests in cravats. With dress suits and readings of love patient, love kind, they sniff over the morning for griddle-pan scones, white-veiled receptions, soft hands at their temples. Ah, all those summers a-toiling they bring back to the valleys as rings in

At the right age

People start to ask questions they really have no right to pose   At a point, they expect you to be studying. Let it be known: a non-graduate works shifts and packs plastic bags.   Since 2008, so do graduates with four degrees. But people will still ask, What do you do? They mean are

A fun romance

it will be, until we have scheduled Friday sex and you neglect to text me; I start imagining my wedding dress and stare at baby buggies through shop windows; Your mother makes lamb moussaka and I am vegetarian. Then it will be life.   2012 — Another poem earmarked for “Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys,”