one last poem

Words fall like autumn leaves. A low dying storm, pressured harbinger of winter, irrevocably sucks them from my lips. Golden on my tongue, they tumble in many evanescent colours. Flutters of purple prose scarcely tinge the air as they drop. Zestful orange phrases, deprived of sunlight, wilt untouched. Yellowed poems drift with the breeze like … Continue reading one last poem


He was gazing into her cleavage with his tongue. The neckline of her dress formed a sharp diagonal across his visual cortex. On one side dark, on the other light. On both sides were soft, gentle folds. His tongue flickered. Uncertain. She shifted in her seat, uncrossed and recrossed her legs, but kept her bright, … Continue reading neuroplasticity


I'd love to build you a pyramid or minaret up to the sky. I'd put the Taj Mahal in shadow and the Kremlin walls would shake. Let Liberty light her candle and Sydney's Opera House sing. I'm going to pitch my tent on an honest Scottish cliff-top and face the storms of a northern sea.