For breakfast I eat up my vowels, my a e i o u, to which I add from consonants a fricative or two;
After that I move my bowels then write as poets do, and frequently am quite surprised to feel a trill come through.

Monday, 28 March 2011


When he called me, he called me his lover:
entrapped me in his cloak of Tyrean purple.

He dipped his bread and fed me,
"Is it me, Lord?” I asked.
He kissed me, and sighed, and said "Yes".

His breath was a whiff of burnt rubber
that hung round my head as a flaming tyre.

Now I hang by my heel on the pathway,
counting time between death and the lion:
hang here, accurs
éd, and smile.

First published in right hand pointing

Also in Serbian translation in ARS 4|'10
trans. Lena Rut Stefanović

A little bit of Turkish: Aslan (Lion) Yatmak (to lay down)
Aslan yattığı yerden belli olur.
You can tell a lion from where it lies.

C. S. Lewis wrote: "I found the name in the notes to Lane's Arabian Nights': it is the Turkish for Lion. I pronounce it Ass-lan myself. And of course I meant the Lion of Judah." Letters to Children p.29

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