moving into our new house

your picture goes up on the wall.
your picture goes down on the wall.
(get your mind out of the gutter.) Continue reading



“do you look at your life?” i thought
everyone did – but do you
make eyes at your own history? where
are the moments that are stories within themselves?
rarely have we written ourselves down – and why?
even our triumphs are marred by mundanity.
still, it is an inimitable existence
and the time, however passed, is ours. Continue reading

in memoriam

Here dead we lie because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is, and we were young.

— A.E. Housman

Something a little different today.


preaching to the choir [crackpot]

“he has a lot of crackpot ideas,”
Serena says, nose upturned just so, a tilt
so subtle it could be mistaken for
natural haughtiness and not the snub
that gilds her tone.

(she had tried, for all of four seconds,
to find an alternative way to issue
what she perceives to be a warning;
but she’s aggressively progressive; she
spent all last week knitting pussy hats
for the March for Women, and
it’s not in her nature to sand edges down
to curves, or to bite her lip
on the word “fuck”.) Continue reading