Sign up to our newsletter
I have always wanted to be nocturnal,
To Live by the light of the moon.
There’s something about the stars – they’re eternal.
I pray the sun sets soon.
All night Tippi and I lie with our armswrapped around each otherlike rope.I bury my face in her neckand she wakes every now and thento kiss the top of my head
I have been here once before – It was a long time ago, I don't remember when.But as my father handed me the axe-headImages exploded in my brain.
I’ve seen those tough as oaks
weep like willows
even the hardest thugs can have tear stained pillows
most can’t see the forest for the trees
He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
Nicholas, I’ve warned you
about not paying attention
in my class.
This is your final warning.
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays
Dada taught me cards.Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.His big belly like a cannon ball.
Give me a smilewith lips stretched wide as a rubber bandand in between a set of straight white teethdazzling like a mirror ball.