The hand that rocks the cradle, Should also rock the boat. Do the shopping, Fight oppression, Do the laundry, Stay afloat. Bear the children, Hold a job down, and utilise her vote. Love the children, bring them up, well. And write the school a note. And while she’s at it there’s the homeless and the
The hand that rocks the cradle Read More »
My sisters’ arms are warm and strong Their voices rich with kitchen songs And in their eyes are joys and sorrows Broken dreams and bright tomorrows Troubles many, praises few Endless lists of things to do Births and deaths and lives go on The composition of their songs Which ripple out into the future empowered
July moon: from your window fleetingly discovered above the sea. For a little while, but we made it ours thinking it was a bottom of a glass. Sea moon; wooden bowls all lined up along the windowsill. The sky does not dry out – meanwhile the tide rises. *** I’m leaving; but you are far
I will call your name and will run barefoot your way, wearing a scarlet wedding dress and a necklace of dewdrops on my neck. My ebony hair will flow, caressed gently by the wind. At the crossroads I will be waiting for you, my sensual lips will whisper spells, and trembling body hungry of your
someone strapped your dreams so high up eyes are tired but can’t sleep at all a swarm of black thoughts penetrates the head everything around is stripped of colour sometimes life hurts so much you signed the contract for life imprisonment don’t matter it hurts you have to go-ahead although your knees are heavily scratched
One suddenly comes to realize that the tree the streets the rain the sun the vertigo are not the same tree the same space the climate of another time the passion of love but the empty color of the dreamless object. One suddenly opens the window to feel the freshness of the afternoon to
LIKE THE FINEST RAIN Read More »
It’s possible that those who greet you are also alone, that they don’t have either visitors or absences. Miguel Méndez Camacho To travel: open your wings against the wind. Pack your suitcase a secret pleasure a bit of fear a bouquet of violets and insomnia the lit lamp. To bid farewell to
POSTCARD FROM A TRIP Read More »
Voice I have been pursuing several nights in vain I know the wait all too well and the piercing blow and the wave propagated along the streets north of the heart it arrives and it is the call of a little girl: – We are like a violin, aren’t we? Words fly like music from
To speak as if being born Read More »
If minarets lengthened their shadow unraveled threads of blue carnations as far as the hair of these disillusioned shoeshine boys come see your shoes shine like stars for a dime time would stop at the corner of shame at the hotel Mercure. Time would topple on bewildered wings to the rug of repentance. And
After Immanuel Mifsud In this selfie, you are leaning relaxed on the restaurant table, but exactly in the way to make your new sunglasses visible with the logo of a well-known brand on them. You did not buy them in one of those high-end boutiques on the Rive Gauche – as a
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