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”
Last Friday the stove blew up And our home came to the ground. Blackened plates, blackened telephone, Blackened stew (nothing new). Mother moaned merrily As the brambles swarmed and Earth Took back our house: An opportune disaster.