The Visit, or The Arrival of the Thing

There is a well-known Afrikaans short story Die Gog (The Thing) about an unidentified creature nursed and doted upon by a couple. The thing (die gog) is kept in a box, feed and protected. Eventually the couple’s mutual obsession destroys their relationship. This serves as an imagined prelude to the un-dramatic domestic tragedy of Die

Without a word

Interestinggg, my muse of the nimble-feet that you decided to delete the last cord of our communication: a cue of ‘moving on’ or sullen irritation? Interestinggg, my fascination locus, that whatever swung your focus – “in some shit” you did mention – erased your previous courteous attention. You didn’t say good-bye; you neglected an adieu.

Advice for Love Chess

When I first posted this poem, it elicited some strong responses. “Blatant manipulation. Far better to say what you mean.” Ah! Love chess. — This poem, along with 24 others about life, love and the modern boy, are collected in my book Emily’s Poem for Modern Boys.

Until we have scheduled Friday sex…

Another crowd favourite from the archives. “A fun romance” appears in my book Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys.

This morning’s request

It’s a bright day, just the right day to expect you to fly home. When you land, hey – give me a call – and we can let our banter roam. — A short and simple request on behalf of all who have ever endured the irritation of long-distance romance. This is also the final

Saying it Plainly

Ten days ago I didn’t know you. Didn’t know you walked the streets of anywhere walked the streets of London Didn’t know you Didn’t know you had walked the dusty sights of that anywhere near where I had breathed the streets of there and then in London. I didn’t know the sight of each “1