Month: January 2018


My soul is troubled, I can’t get it to think; only this morning, I have been grumbling about everything.


A dancing baby, a laughing tree: I should blame you for behaving badly, parking outside a sharia court.


Reliable is for children, who eat and wash hands; a naked baby wears a black socks, his penis looks small.

Death and Babies

Talking bodies; praying lips. She is sad about the lady, or perhaps the baby she killed, pretending to mourn by shaving her hair.

For David

Poetry is everywhere, you always told me.
Unless you sniff me I never saw it.