For World Poetry Day last year I wrote out the fanciful myth I have constructed about how poetry precipitated my birth.
Actually it’s very simple. Either it’s in motion or it is not. This bears the signs of not. That bears the signs of motion. Words to-ing and fro-ing And actions Everything bears the mask of nonsense. 13/1/14 — A liberating revelation in my younger youth was the concept of He’s Just Not That Into YouContinue reading “It’s complicated”
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,” Continue reading “A fun romance”