did you see the snow falling sideways?
did you see the rainbow’s end?
did you see the flowers in springtime?
did you see the children playing?
did you see my heart being broken
when you walked away and shut the door?

Bobbie Troy

Harbour

January 21, 2020

sometimes i can’t help it
i’m down and i want to stay down
but then you hug me, your ample
breasts snug under my smaller
ones like an art sculpture
of a puzzle piece, and i feel
my spirits lift against my will
damn happiness i think, it’s just
her breasts, they have nothing
to do with how things will turn
out between us, and i try not
to be pulled out of the treacherous
moment, out of the safety of
nothing can get worse than it
already is, but there i am, helpless,
elevated by your breasts

Ann Tweedy

Love Talk

January 21, 2020

Whatever is said,
in or on the bed,
(like ‘Were you
telling me a fairy story?’
or ‘I want to
feel you inside me!’)
is insubstantial air
circling the pubic hair…
From top to toe,
all the love will go
(‘I want to
lick you!’ or ‘Open
your legs a bit wider!’
or even ‘I love you!’),
it will vanish away
like childhood play…
It stops and starts,
performing arts
(like theatre,
cinema, ballet,
there for a moment,
then slowly forgotten)
are most like this –
the insubstantial kiss…

Seasons

January 21, 2020

We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.

Shirley Jackson
We Have Always Lived in the Castle

a theatre of embarrassment

January 21, 2020

23 February 2018.

I go to the chemist in search of Collis Browne, which Boots choose no longer to sell, though why no one can explain. Depending on what one wants, the chemist has always been a theatre of embarrassment, though never so much as when our local pharmacy was on the corner of Sharpleshall Street (now the Italian delicatessen). Then, it was run by an old couple, Mr Alderson and his sister; Mr A. doing the prescriptions with Miss Alderson the front of house. As he was quite slow there were often half a dozen people waiting, as I was one afternoon when the (slightly deaf) Mr Alderson emerged with my prescription, inquiring in ringing tones, ‘Whose is the scrotal itch?’

Alan Bennett
Finding My Métier
Diaries

they have no fear

January 21, 2020

Witches, like saints, are solitary stars that shine with a light of their own; they depend on nothing and no one, which is why they have no fear and plunge blindly into the abyss with the assurance that instead of crashing to earth, they will fly back out. They can change into birds and see the world from above, or worms to see it from within, they can inhabit other dimensions and travel to other galaxies, they are navigators on an infinite ocean of consciousness and cognition.

Isabel Allende
Paula

This perhaps is how the Fairy Tale SHOULD have been told –

Once upon a time in a land far away…a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.

The frog hoped onto her lap and said:

“Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell on me…One kiss from you however, and I will turn back into the dapper young prince that I am! And then my sweet we can marry! Oh, and then we can set up housekeeping in your castle…with my mother…and you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes…warm my bed at night…bear my many children! And forever feel happy and grateful to do so!”

That night –

As the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed FROGS LEGS seasoned in fine white wine, garlic and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself:

“I don’t fuckin’ think so!”