December 2


I have the cold blue eyes that turned goddess grey, he imagined. And so the other cheek was turned, and “turned” became the word of the day, taking over from yesterday’s “yesterday”. “Oh, my lonely eyes that have only one another for company.”

December 1


November 30


from The System

For it is certain that you will rise from the bench a new person, and even before you have emerged into the full daylight of the street you will feel that a change has begun to operate in you, within your very fibers and sinews, and when the light of the street floods over you it will have become real at last, all traces of doubt will have been pulverized by the influx of light slowly mounting to bury those crass seamarks of egocentricity and warped self-esteem you were able to navigate by but which you no longer need now that the rudder has been swept out of your hands, and this whole surface of daylight has become one with that other remembered picture of light, when you were setting out, and which you feared would disappear because of its uniqueness, only now realizing that this singleness was the other side of the coin of its many-faceted diversity and interest, and that it may be simultaneously cherished for the former and lived in thanks to the versatility of the latter.

             — John Ashbery, from Three Poems

November 29


I’m feeling targetted. I imagine arrows. I dream of ambush.
It might be the weather. It might be the time of year.
Perhaps it’s something else.

November 28



Menelaos of the fair hair
Artemis of the golden distaff
Nestor the Gerenian horseman
Zeus of the wide brows

November 27



When the young Dawn shows again with her rosy fingers
Time to wake up
Now when the young Dawn shows again with her rosy fingers

November 26



[by Terence Winch, Rebecca Levenson, Ted Greenwald, Susan Campbell & Doug Lang]

November 25


More guff. Here comes a poem about all the boyfriends I have had. Please stay awake until I get to the end of it in about 3 minutes, give or take. Some people like this poem which is why I am on the wireless reading it. Later comes “Music To Fall Asleep To”.

November 24


The past and the future
Whoever began this hoo-hah should end it
It is difficult to hang on

November 23



It was the middle of the night and dark. Bunty awoke from a dream in which a large crowd of oranges were on the way home after a concert by Stephen “The Zest” Seville, the world famous performer. All of the oranges were talking at the same time, because they were so excited by the show, during which Steve had assumed various geometrical shapes and, in an innovative and quite unexpected twist, imitated a number of different preservatives. Bunty turned on the bedside lamp and looked around the room, expecting to see oranges, but there were none. There were only some bananas, lurking in a bunch in the corner by the washstand.