Letter to The Times Sir - I cannot abide the slender new volume, The Selected Gush (1880-1910). But, who among us, in all honesty, could say they've never once been smitten by her louche, languid lines of lust (described in this very journal as 'fin de siècle erotica')? No! Neither I! I've annotated her verse … Continue reading The Selected Gush (1880-1910)
Am I being noisy or too quiet, dear muse? Politeness, the choice of weapon we choose. We listened to ‘the season of the witch.' This is our secret and how I wish I adored your sleight of hand ways – but... the silent rewriting and riot of this early spring evening on Whitley Bay beach … Continue reading The Byrds fell in love with Bob.
we came at last to an adobe square sun-bleached and honeyed with busy voices. barking market traders hawked their wares - halite, tin and nugget-silver mined from those blue and hazy mountains, caged birds, of many colours, uttered (though we could not speak their language). spices sillaged the noon dry air and monkeys, leashed, and feral … Continue reading a balance act
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