You have your arms

in total secrecy,surrounded byits shadow cloakinvisible to me.Amygdala!you have betrayedfor reasons known to God,survival must,by Satan’s lawgive only you the nod.

Will they get what they needwill there be a stampedeto the musical Porgy and Bez?There is always the matter of lieslet them eat their strange cakes and their pies,but the masters will winwith dijon on their chinand the whole of an egg on their ties.

stared at the ceiling, spiderwebs and solid maple beamsI reached but found an empty space still warm like Irish brew.What woke me was the absence of your pheromones oh yes,my hands stay warm and somewhat moist so near your trusted placetheir image Duerer’s praying hands, it’s where we coalesce.Back once again, it’s dawn and dew,…

pillows are fluffedand there is barely a hintof the softness of down,a distant memoryof Yolanda, the goose,cousins perhaps,but the glisteningof what sootheswas madein the lab of Synthetico.How fittingto focus,head over tail,on the strange meetingof two worlds.Amongst all this nudity.This was written for my little Gina.

to call for volunteers.Chernobyl was a messand messes did not happeninside the Soviet Union.So, in due course they came,with shovels, picks and spades.Olive green shirts and bootsof imitation leather, black.They worked their shifts,all for the Fatherland,or, as they called it, Mother Russia.The Kommisar congratulated,on Saturday, the gang of twenty-five.He also demonstrated the new mask,the one…

who suffer fromsome terminal diseasessuch asleukaemia or myeloma,who gets involvedin hushed discussionswith patientsand relativesaboutthe end of life andhow it should bemanaged……I’m very sadthat I am being asked,just now and then,to help end a life,and feel thatif the lawwere changedthis would destroy,foreverthe trustI now enjoywith human beingssuch as these.A quest for helpwith endingtheir own life,takes away…