Oldman & Younger #1

YOUNGER  Tell me, O Master: Why do the stars all glister in the sky? Are they the souls of holy saints who shone as beacons in their earthly lives, leading the sinful multitudes towards the light? Are these those honoured spirits that seem to twinkle in their dance of joy – perhaps that mortal eyes might learn of Heaven’s glory? Tell me, O Master, for I long to know… Continue reading “Oldman & Younger #1”

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The Immanence

If everything was white:
the stars, the sky, the looming trees
and all the beasts and all the bees,

and every building white as these,
then there would still be names for them,
a word for each of these,

but there would be no word for white;
A universal shade, invisible in tone:
Far too evident to be known.

From Russia with Love

When Theresa May met Donald Trump,
he tried to hold her hand.
She kicked him, diplomatically
(which he didn’t understand).

He’d combed his hair, but her stony heart
was a wall he couldn’t scale.
He swigged his glass of Novichok
like any alpha male.

“This Champagne’s gotta…lotta fizz…”
he told her, eyes aflame.
“From Putin, Mr President
– so he’ll get all the blame…”