I miss you, here, now. /
As your voice, telling stories, /
Murmurs through the pine trees /
And the red squirrels chatter overhead.
I’m out here / Walking with ghosts and birds /
Both bent back as they battle the breeze
There’s not much timorous about you my friend
Scrotal ye are, and swelling
I spent the day building the girls a tree house With a neighbour who is much more that way minded…
In honour of this liquid creature / Who twists between worlds / Blending shadow and light
A door opens to let in the moon / A crescent on its side / Eye to the telescope
More of a reading really. Tomorrow night at the Cumberland from 7 but likely to kick off properly nearer 8.…
Arriving in Venice one morning in late April 1936, Maurits Cornelis Escher stepped onto the dockside and walked briskly to the University of Architecture, which turned out to be a rather disappointing red brick building near the railway station.
Not as vulgar as the banana Nor as coarse as the aubergine Plums are the sexiest fruit Some people find…