Napoleon’s Travelling Bookshelf
All the weapons of December are here: the lowered knife of the sky, my sister’s fingers like a herd of horses are retreating across the piano. - from ‘Rainy Day in the Drawing Room’ At once erudite,...
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Bonjour Tetris
Who owns this puny little gun? Doom. Who owns these fragged-up body parts? Doom. Who owns this chain-sawed demon spawn? Doom. Who owns this lake of toxic waste? Doom. Who is stronger than work? Doom....
View ArticleA Body Made of You
I do not write to you, but of you, because the paper that we write on is our perishable skin. Your photograph is inky and your face chalked in by, honestly — honesty. You are absolutely sure and...
View ArticleThe Method
We’ll never know that unbelievable head, those outstanding eyes. The trunk stills shines, but more like a subdued candelabrum reflecting on its own reluctant – if staggering – power. Why else would we...
View ArticleThe Shipwrecked House
Ultimately does it matter if the pearls are real or not? The earth is a pearl, blinding and flawed, nestled inside the mollusc of the milky way. Anchors, shipwrecks, whales and islands abound in this...
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