Poems
On Therapy and Things
Matei meets me in the middle of sentences born of silence, of reflection, of diseased riddles and eviscerating verbal violence. We speak of death and archetypes, of alchemy and the divine, of love grown sickly and ripe, no longer sweet and so sublime. Confined within...
The New Bookcase
I was brought up with a bookcase, which came with a house my parents bought. I dreamed of being a writer in the room we shared and where childish rivalries were fought. I dwelt on disappointments as time did run away ‘No thank you’, were the only words the publishers...
Back in Blighty
Wizz Air brings me back to the crawling lights of Little Britain, a neck-jarring landing followed by bewildering ePassport control ushers me home into this eccentric island with a poster for multi-cultural mead. The clanking Siemens Thameslink train gets me in at dawn...
Great Sex Lives
They say great men have unhappy youths or sleep with a great many. From Alexander’s time onwards they’ve been equivocal about the fanny. Although it’s fair to say that Lord Byron had an affair with his half-sister, the ensuing scandal caused the incestuous bard to...