Plums swaying on the plum tree Falling fat at my feet Down to the root of me He’s burnt the matriarchal bed And put it out for all to see...

Why do we quake at the immovable lips of a woman? We see atrocities in the eyes of the Madonna – That they bow to kiss. I have begun...

Give me a moment We’re all allowed it When there are moments Stolen from us so often. Whatever it is - Sitting Lying fully clothed...