This will hurt me...

Over the fence (and out). The [former] Chickenfeed carpark, Sandy Bay. March 2013. Everywhere you look there are tyrants. I'm tempted to say that this is a new thing, but am reasonably certain that they've always been around... Epitaph on a Tyrant , W. H. Auden Perfection of a kind was what he was after, And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; He knew human folly like the back of his hand, And was greatly interested in armies and fleets; When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

What are they doing in there? St David's Park. November 2011. Oh I do love peeking over a fence. Two Songs , Adrienne Rich 1. Sex, as they harshly call it, I fell into this morning at ten o'clock, a drizzling hour of traffic and wet newspapers. I thought of him who yesterday clearly didn't turn me to a hot field ready for plowing, and longing for that young man pierced me to the roots bathing every vein, etc. All day he appears to me touchingly desirable, a prize one could wreck one's peace for. I'd call it love if love didn't take so many years but lust too is a jewel a sweet flower and what pure happiness to know all our high-toned questions breed in a lively animal. 2. That "old last act"! And yet sometimes all seems post coitum triste and I a mere bystander. Somebody else is going off, getting shot to the moon. Or a moon-race! Split seconds after my opposite number lands I make it-- we lie fainting together at a crater-edge heavy as mercury in our ...