.. bunting works ..

it is a profound thing,

the paper the string.


the wind blows, all is safe inside,

somewhat dry mainly. so we

place the bunting well.


she  had rushed home, she

left the fish in the oven.


this  is not a metaphor.






When God blessed creation, a ewe gave birth to Adam. When he cursed Satan, Eve hatched from a crocodile’s egg.

In naming the animals, Adam marked them for death. His own name was a slow fire. Eve’s was an inferno.


In the shelter of the Tree of Knowledge, Eve coupled with the serpent. When Adam discovered them, the sight turned him to stone. God howled.


Birds, reptiles and insects answered to Eve. Fish and mammals were her enemies. Bees inscribed her messages of love and war in flowers’ scents.


Eve spun a web from moonlight. God’s words, frail, dry, got caught in it and shivered to dust.


Eve’s midnight laughter made the dead come to life. Her midday sorrow buried them again. The world’s terrible machinery never rested.


Eve made a mirror whose surface flickered with fleshy desires. When God jealously smashed it, she buried its shards in our dreams.


God invented religion. Eve countered with science. God made the pig, the cow, the lamb. Eve made the knives and forks with which to eat them.