Something Special
Grandpa used to bring simple candies.
His knock on the door would spark our excitement.
And why was he so kind, after all?
He taught me chess,
loved to read,
was a Labourist.
I don’t remember much else.
It's sad he left this world too soon.
I think I would’ve learned more about him
if I were older.

I will drink a ****** Mary
with the aroma of tomatoes,
turn on my plasma TV
with useless news
nausea takes hold of me,
and the sand unfolds...

small fantasies,
melted candles,
the taste of starch,
the smell of rotting potatoes,
a blow
to the sore spot
Achilles’ heel.
children of sin
tread a steep cliff.

A fleeting fantasy,
an outburst of love
radiant as Greek myth.
To wake from the haze of sleep
is no simple thing.
My butterfly has flown away.

Stones splattered with mud,
the night cold upon the earth,
barefoot, I walk on muddy, cold stones
I miss the scent of your perfume,
whose fragrance drives me
to bleed myself out.