Through the window

I hit the boy in a daydream. He strolled his motorbike straight out onto the highway where my 50km an hour cruise in flipflops and sun dress was abruptly confused into a squall of bent metal, shredded petals and grating skin. It was a bright morning, the scent of papaya and grass smoke on the … More Through the window

The Beautiful Suffering

Could the wounded human love story be the tearing open of the bud to a truly Divine Romance? Huge, hard, kinky, tantra, boots and whips and puppies. Ice creams, gags, wax and weird conjugations of the kundalini…. since when did sensuality form this venomous helix with suffering? And where, on our wounded Earth, is all this going … More The Beautiful Suffering

The heavy bee

The purple flower fits exactly the heavy bee whose little body, swerving like a drunkard on a string, can yet land in exactly the right way to please her. He opens her slightly, she shakes her head then quits her pouting. A gasp; she quivers. The bee drives on and, fully embraced in the throat … More The heavy bee