Poems
Donne Rhymin’
John Donne was bitten by God’s flea, which sucked his blood and set him free.
Indisposed
Been sleeping in my filth for days, a shower too shaky to assay. Yet hard to quantify the form my malady has taken, sleep of course, but also, lassitude and great remorse. The central conundrum of my life has left me leaning on the ginger wine and the port, I even...
The Snail
Today I bought a brass snail as a gift with a tape inside of it, which measures by both metric and imperial means. But my feelings are too complicated to quantify in either, so, it’s just as well that I bought it for my brother! Even then I could not decide for which...
Ginger Whine
Yesterday I felt okay, today I’m feeling rather frail. Went out on the lash last night and stayed up very late watching The Singing Detective by Dennis Potter, a televisual feast, but now I’m suffering for his art. But my psoriatic arthropody is not a patch on his....