Ode to Patrizia Cavalli: My Poems Won’t Change the World

She had me at the title. I remember it well – a rainy afternoon in the Waterstones on Garrick Street, about 5 years ago. I hadn’t heard of Patrizia Cavalli before that day, but was immediately drawn in by the sincerity of her self-deprecation, the nonchalance of her pose in that armchair photo on theContinue reading “Ode to Patrizia Cavalli: My Poems Won’t Change the World”

Summer Evening

Ekphrasis, after Edward Hopper  when at last you crossed my lawn  through the dank of late July  all I could see was the way sweat pooled  in the creases of your shirt  the glint in your eyes as they scrutinised   the fissure in my chest  the pot of beans boiling over behind the curtain  andContinue reading “Summer Evening”