selected past writing at 42opus
Lets say a woman's heart
is like a windup bird.
The conservatory filled
with oranges and the cellar
6 September 2006 | poetry
Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned
As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted,
Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows;
Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken…
We were driving along the road from Treguier to Kervanda. We passed at a smart trot between the hedges topping an earth wall on each side of the road; then at the foot of the steep ascent before Ploumar the horse dropped into a walk, and the driver jumped down heavily from the box. He flicked his whip and climbed the incline, stepping clumsily uphill by the side of the carriage, one hand on the footboard, his eyes on the ground. After a while he lifted his head, pointed up the road with the end of the whip, and said—
I saw the story of a man with a condition
called the Capgras delusion who believed
all his loved ones were carbon-copy imposters.
He wasn't frightened; he didn't think his parents
were reptiles in rubber suits or Iagos…