Fun Afternoon

It was new; it was envirgorating; it was liberating. Every muscle in my body was exercised. And after an hour and a half, I did feel a little sore in some delicate places. But I loved it. … So glad I bought this bike.

Tags: fun



Say your lines hard and fast on the edge of mine:

Go at me, with your fierce performance. This is

Anger like making love, intensity beyond the play,

Beyond the character. We are acting something else:

Our need, our connection, our fear that we can never

Be together. Hurl your energy on me. I am your

Antagonist, your foil, your other element. We play

Our parts, blushing like hot angels.


Enter me, fill me, take me, be within me,
Complete me, fulfil me, make me yours,

Penetrate my soul, my need. Claim me, frame

Me with your force of tender, blending,

Intense discovery. Hold me gently, telling me

Secretly in my ear that I must be queer as you,

That I must do what will please,…



Of course you could skip into my arms,

With your girlfriend urging you on, and

Your buoyancy so flagrant. Be my juice,

My taste, my flavour, my lemon savour.

Kiss me with your acid drop lips, so that

My mouth tingles with the sharp sweetness

Of it all, with the sour honey of your

Precise intimacy.

Evening Ride

Up Cleveland Avenue, round Roseberry Avenue, to the dead end, back onto Cleveland Avenue, up the cut, along the path by the ditch, through the Co-op car park, left at the roundabout, cross the road, right along the road by the river, over the footbridge, right along the road by the river, over the bridge, left, out opposite the Masonic Lodge, right into the High Street, left at the roundabout to Springfield, left after the school, along behind the old workhouse, up the snicket, into the estate, down to the cul de sac, back round, left into the Acres, right round to the main road, left into Linwood Avenue, right to the cut, across Meadowfield, back to Cleveland Avenue. Quiet streets, evening sun, swifts overhead, ducks on the river, daughter close behind. Lovely evening bike ride.

Tags: bike

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Q Tips # 1176

A dream of companionship: we would write poems at each other - rich in cryptic, curious references; mutually inspiring; strange but aimed at home.

Q Tips # 1175

I write to forget myself. With the right person, I could live without the need to write: s/he could release me like that. In the absence of that person, I write, hoping to wipe away all desire, all need, all expectation.



I wished for a balloon, with you, a surge

And float and glide into the empty air,

Quiet, wind-taken, drifting, buoyant,

With you beside me in the creaking basket.

I wanted to balloon into the in-between

With you, between us, with us, upflowing

Away, together, blending, sharing, silently

Understanding. I wished like a balloon.

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