Monthly Archives: January 2014

Yes and No

Jane said no, but then we were

so young, though she taught me

how to kiss; and Viv said no,

sadly, as she was experienced

beyond her years; then Rita said yes

but we were never really alone;

another Jane said yes, but

didn’t mean it, never let me get beyond her

beautiful breasts; and the boyish

Canadian girl said yes, but

wanted her boyfriend involved and I got

cold feet, stupidly; but then

Sarah said yes and suddenly

yes was in fashion, “yes I will Yes” ,

everyone glanding the

Molly Bloom on all our bookshelves.


There might have been more yeses

had I been able to read the

maybe in women’s eyes, but you

unexpectedly said yes, and yes

suddenly became the most

complicated, portentous,

mysterious word in the Universe,

much more troublesome than no.




The Sun rose in the Queendom
of his cold distant cousin,
his heat and light
negated by her night.


On my calculator, it doesn’t make sense:-

X years times Y children

still makes a minus?

Is my app at fault?


But then there is no way to

calculate, no app to fathom,

what is left of life once

love is subtracted.



I melded to you, nestled against your nethers,

like a die in a mould, each of us in the

furnace of our bed taking some

imprint of the other out into the

con-fused world.

Morse Code

The planes come in like morse code

(dot, dash, dot, what are you

telling me?) resolving into

gaudy crucifixes passing overhead,

tubes full of happiness and stress, just like

life really–are there good deals,

marriages, love, hope, new

life on board? But, breaking air, they

vanish over the horizon—

dash, dot, dash—their

message undecrypted.


The gale gouges the English Channel as

gales have for millennia, each one

scouring the divide with winds like

wire-wool and rains that

mulch chalk into milky rivulets

dripping into streams in spate

debouching into swollen rivers, thence into the

growing gulf between

England and France.

Present, Tense

I am present, tense, expecting the

thump of memory in my back, the

wham of what will in my belly,

a giant Newton’s Cradle where

past and future hammer present to

make it appear to stay still.


Sex Matters ~ by May More

Don't Lose it or Confuse it



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