In the year 1775, there stood upon the borders of Epping Forest, at a distance of about twelve miles from London–measuring from the Standard in Cornhill,’ or rather from the spot on or near to which the Standard used to be in days of yore–a house of public entertainm
When you sit over there, Any there, all wheres, I start to measure out the angles, the distance from you to me first sharp , now smudged between us, Wanting only the courage to throw away my protractor, convention and in finding you, uncover me.
They talk of salamanders loving fire, but my love, my rage- for you , burns every cell, every atom of this person without you who is a mere stand in for the me with you, who is all fire, the hot thirst of our destiny.
The last time he had seen her she was walking down the street whistling a song she had always claimed her father had taught her in India. George loved this colonial tale but he knew about her mother’s fear of change and catastrophic travel sickness and decided to love
Tin wanted to love the woman with the whisper of liquorice about her neck but his in-box this morning had a new case of a missing person and his mother kept calling from Israel demanding he find her case with that brown suede handle.
Waking, with a dream of first love forming real words,as close to my lips as lipstick, I speak your name,after a silence of years, into the pillow, and the powerof your name brings me here to the window, naked,to say it again to a garden shaking with light. This was a child’s lo
She would not say of any one in the world now that they were this or were that. She felt very young; at the same time unspeakably aged. She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on.She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of bein
He arrives too late to tell him how it will be.Oscar is gone. Alone, he orders hock,sips in the style of an earlier centuryin glamorous mirrors under the clocks. He would like to live then now, suddenly findhimself early, nod to Harris and Shaw;then sit alone at a table, biding
With some surprise, I balance my small female skull in my hands.What is it like? An ocarina? Blow in its eye.It cannot cry, holds its breath only as long as I exhale,mildly alarmed now, into the hole where the nose was,press my ear to its grin. A vanishing sigh. For
‘On November the 21st, the day of her forty-seventh birthday, and three weeks and two days before she was murdered, RhodaGradwyn went to Harley street to keep a first appointment with her plastci surgeon, and there in a consulting room designed, so it appeared, to inspire confid
Only there, the afternoons could suddenly pauseand when I looked up from lacing my shoea long road held no one, the gardens were empty,an ice-cream van chimed and dwindled away. On the motorway bridge, I waved at windscreens,oddly hurt by the blurred waves back, the speed.So I let a h
While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But thi
I want you and you are not here. I pausein this garden, breathing the colour thought isbefore language into still air. Even your nameis a pale ghost and, though I exhale it againand again, it will not stay with me. TonightI make you up, imagine you, your movements clearerthan the word
D’Urberville stopped the horse, withdrew his feet from the stirrups, turned sideways on the saddle, and enclosed her waist with his arm to support her. This immediately put her on the defensive, and with one of those sudden impulses of reprisal to which she was liable she gave h