poetry

“The ceaseless labour of your life is to build the house of death.”       – Montaigne, Essais     I built my house from lust; From that moment Before skin touches skin When my hand hovers Above Her curving thigh – That moment When lips pause, part, And gasped breath Passes from one to the […]

You splurge out all your energy onto the page, in maybe 20 minutes or so. Just, bam, out there, everything in one poem draft, and you find yourself exhausted but you still stay with it, tweaking, copying it down into another book or word processing file so you don’t lose track of it. Maybe you […]