Office Friendships

March 17, 2019

Eve is madly in love with Hugh
And Hugh is keen on Jim.
Charles is in love with very few
And few are in love with him.

Myra sits typing notes of love
With romantic pianist’s fingers.
Dick turns his eyes to the heavens above
Where Fran’s divine perfume linger.

Nicky is rolling eyes and tits
And flaunting her wiggly walk.
Everybody is thrilled to bits
By Clive’s suggestive talk.

Sex suppressed will go berserk,
But it keeps us all alive.
It’s a wonderful change from wives and work
And it ends at half past five.

Gavin Ewart

I like misty autumn mornings,
And cold snowy winter nights.
Rainstorms bring me inner peace,
Thunder sets my soul alight.
I care not for summer, days –
Too long, the heavy heat.
Give me candlelight evenings,
Early darkness, a silent street.

Natalia Crow

I wasn’t sure…I didn’t know what I was until about 1952 or ‘53. I knew that I loved very much my roommate at college, where I had had my first lesbian experience. But it wasn’t until I was a camp counsellor in West Virginia that I had the experience that gave me some notion of what my life was about to be all about. I was sitting on a hill…and I was reading a letter from my roommate, the lover of my life, the very first lesbian relationship that I’d ever had. Her parents had taken her off to Scandinavia because they had found out the nature of our relationship. She had written me a goodbye letter, and I was sitting there on Vesper Hill, looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River, crying like a baby, because I didn’t think there was anybody else in the world like me. I had never heard the word ‘lesbian.’ I had never dreamed that there was anybody else who had any kind of orientation like I did or who loved the way that I did… Suddenly a shadow fell across the paper, and I looked up, hiding the letter, into the face of the camp bugler, a rather butch-looking woman that I had had some questions about. She was standing up there and she was toking on her cigarette… and then she sort of squatted down beside me. And here we were, the two of us, sitting there looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River. And then she puts her hand on my shoulder, she takes another toke off of the cigarette, and she blows it off and she says, ‘We are growing in numbers every day.’”

Sally Miller Gearhart
Last Call at Maud’s (Film)

merge into one

March 17, 2019

You look at me, from close up you look at me, closer and closer and then we play Cyclops, we look closer and closer at one another and our eyes get larger, they come closer, they merge into one and the two Cyclops’s look at each other, blending as they breathe, our mouths touch and struggle in gentle warmth, biting each other with their lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go to sink into your hair, to cherish slowly the depth of your hair while we kiss as if our mouths were filled with flowers or with fish,  with lively movements and dark fragrance. And if we bite each other the pain is sweet, and if we smother each other in a brief and terrible sucking in together of our breaths, that momentary death is beautiful. And there is but one saliva and one flavour of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.

Julio Cortázar


March 17, 2019

Night doesn’t fall,
but rather, all the disregarded shadows of a day
flock like blackbirds, and suddenly rise.

Stuart Dybek
Alaska Quarterly Review, Fall & Winter 2012

Saint Patrick’s Day

March 17, 2019

Wandering the countryside of Ireland, you may have noticed the absence of snakes. While Britain has a handful of native species, Ireland is completely free of the reptiles — a feat credited to Saint Patrick. The legend goes that Patrick was fasting on a hill for 40 days when a colony of snakes began pestering him. Stricken with divine purpose, Saint Patrick gallantly drove the serpents into the sea, ridding Ireland of the creatures forever.

Snakes have long been used in Judeo-Christian religion as a symbol of sin and temptation. The story is likely a nod to the work Patrick did to convert the “blasphemous” pagans of the time over to Christianity –

On the other hand, poor old St Pat, starving himself for those forty-days and nights, was plagued by visions of cock – only sublimated to reptile form. He craved and raved cock. Not one, but a whole colony of cocks. It was his obsession: cock, cock, cock! And, knowing sainthood awaited him (and in the absence of any rosy cheeked choirboys, a much later development) he struggled with and overcame these erectile visions, banishing them from his thoughts!