Writing

The satyr had lost sight of her, fleeing from him in such a limb-tumble of…

Pale blue dawn gave way to morning and he dreamed on beneath a tented ceiling…

Andromeda sways, bored and naked, arms raised above her sun-ignited mane.  Her hands are manacled…

Horizon on fire, then day made bare, to see what the dark had done. The…

The smell of boiling rice and then a girl smelling of gardenias passed close by.…

(in memoriam Keith Douglas, 1920-1944) How to find his way in was not the thing…

I Reader of books. And listener and looker. These also. The bustle of the afteryear.…

Like a flower or a sin Ruben Dario I Lilies spoke for empire, a plume…

Esmeralda’s ruined body rests in dark waters. Wreathes mark the spot one day each year,…

The courtyard was dominated by a tree which resembled a gigantic pineapple, sunk halfway down…