changed several times

January 1, 2020

I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.

Lewis Carroll
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

A boat, beneath a sunny sky

February 25, 2018

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July —

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear —

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream —
Lingering in the golden gleam —
Life, what is it but a dream?

Lewis Carroll

10 th September

Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place – Yes Lewis Carroll knew. But did he understand?


Still, silent night. Didn’t even hear the owls out hunting. They killed in blood-red silence, or took a night off and went hungry. Or perhaps they went elsewhere to rend and tear, leaving us to enjoy our exhausted peace?


I sit locked out,
my nose pressed against glass
only I know about.

You sense my distance
but cannot understand
the why of it.

The space I cannot cross.

I watch you dance
with strange disjointed steps
to music I cannot hear.

A ritual to which I can never belong.

You laugh to see me sit alone
as if I made a foolish choice
I am too proud to own.

But I cannot join
this thing that makes no sense
this thing that for me is so unreal.

I must dance to a lonelier beat.

25th / 26th May

Is it possible I’ve inhaled you in to me? Isn’t that you hiding behind my eyes? I can feel you in my blood, flowing, an impossible heat…

Beside the river bank, jeweled weeds: stinging nettles with translucent stems like human bones in miniature and cow parsley and foxgloves with warm, moist interiors like glowing uteruses.

Hot, sultry weather. At dawn the light seeped like a sigh into the night. Here, in the middle of nowhere, time ceases – or rather, ceases to have meaning. And my thoughts slip into lost infinities –

I hear your laughter, like co-conspirators, the pair of you: children spontaneously giggling. Last night we three drowned in dreams together, and came to realise the distances between stars is vast and lonely. Night remained framed in the bedroom window, while a solitary flickering candle reflected in the glass blotted out those stars and the monstrosities living between them.

I felt your hands running slowly across my memories –


Zentai, so I understand, is a term for skin-tight garments that cover the entire body. A second skin, so to speak. I think of those men and women with a latex fetish, smooth as polished black glass, but with access of some sort at the crotch –


It is easy to imagine Beauvoir on top of Sartre until she gives that one loud, feminine shriek of pleasure realised. Sartre, of course, is all about suppressed desires, wet dreams, and –

Beauvoir would have hated having him on top of her, stabbing her over and over, until every nerve felt split and bruised. Her pale silver body forced open by him. She would have thought of a new born desperately trying to scramble back inside its mother. She’d have hated that, but would have faked an orgasm anyway. Sartre, of course, wouldn’t have been fooled by her deception –

But he would have remained reasoned, affectionate and polite –

While I would have purchased her a dress of words; she had the most beautiful hands, you know? The slender, flexible fingers of the most lewd fricatrice imaginable. Oh, how I would have loved her to rub me in that special way –


Love can be such a fatal disease; kisses infect; kisses kill – like a freakin’ apocalypse of infected lips and words, drowning us all in my disjecta membra.


Writing is a battle between laziness and lies which, if you’re lucky, exposes truth.


Beside the river in such dreamy weather it is easy to image that ‘golden afternoon’ in 1862 when Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) with his friend the reverend Robinson Duckworth took the three Liddell sisters rowing on the Thames. Lorina Charlotte was the eldest sister, aged thirteen, Alice Pleasance was ten and Edith at age eight, the youngest. They had tea together on the riverbank near Godstow, and Dodgson told them “the fairy-tale of Alice’s adventures underground”. Dodgson who had many ‘child-friends’ and liked to photograph ‘naked little girls’, had a great fondness for writing ‘nonsense’, playing with mathematics, logic and words, and, welding them together, he created on that sun-filled day an immortal children’s fantasy –

Here, today, the hedgerows are a tangled mass of colour: valerian, red campion, common mallow, field ‘forget-me-nots’, and of course blue bells and daffodils grow all around. Nearby woods offer dappled shade and ‘secret places’ where blue bells run wild – as if on steroids! Often we have picnicked here or made love or just sat and contemplated our wild surroundings –

‘For I think it is Love,
For I feel it is Love,
For I’m sure it is nothing but Love!’

If ever you feel oppressed by the ‘monstrous mindlessness’ of the cosmos, walk here in the woods beside the river, and that oppression will soon fade away.

How do you know I’m mad?

December 11, 2016


“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”

“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Lewis Carroll
Alice in Wonderland

Alice and that rabbit

December 10, 2016


Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.

Lewis Carroll
Through the Looking-Glass

What road…?

March 22, 2016


Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, “What road do I take?”

The cat asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Alice answered.

“Then,” said the cat, “it really doesn’t matter, does it?”

Lewis Carroll
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

White Rabbit…

September 1, 2015

Dominic Murphy

But what if that white Rabbit had been a psychopath?

What then?

“All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide…”

The three Liddle sisters: Lorina Charlotte, age thirteen, Alice Pleasance, age ten, and Edith age eight. There on the river with Lewis Carroll and his friend Reverend Robinson Duckworth. They had tea on the riverbank near Godstow, and Carroll told the story of Alice’s adventures underground – at least that’s what Carroll later claimed.

Imagine those girls: glowing their beauty, frail as clouds, gorgeous as the myriad meadow flowers surrounding them. Such an enticement for two single Victorian gentlemen. Lewis Carroll, of course, was the pen-name of Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgeson. He was thirty years old when he first told his tale, and with motives beyond reproach.

“Stand forth, then, from the shadowy past, Alice, the child of my dreams…” pleaded Carroll to his muse.

And the rabbit ran close by, muttering to itself ‘Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall be too late!’ While checking a pocket watch that it removed from its waistcoat. Alice, with more nose than a Parker and being of the same gender as Greek Pandora, went off in hot pursuit. She went into freefall down the Rabbit hole, silly girl, unaware of the potential danger inherent in such a precipitous act.

For that white Rabbit with its sinister pink eyes could well have been a fully paid-up member of the ‘Serial Killers Association”. In short, he might have been the bunny equivalent of Theodore Robert Bundy, infamous kidnapper, killer and rapist – who much preferred his ladies dead before taking his pleasure with them. And while I readily admit I’ve never before heard of a necrophile Rabbit, I’ve also never heard of one that talks or owns a pocket watch –

For all any of us know, that damn Rabbit gloated over the severed heads of countless female victims – girls and women he’d lured down his hole into the labyrinth far below. That Rabbit, boys and girls, could very easily be the very definition of heartless evil…!

But if so, Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgeson remains ominously silent on the subject.


Which way to go…

May 12, 2015