My Red Prostitute is the name of my shop It sells nothing but dreams All dreams are hand made Nothing is too much For our skilled craftsmen

I am sitting alone at a bare table Drinking a glass of clear water Everything is quite still The dying light is now hollow I am in the middle of a journey Which I am unable to describe

Silent doors Masked By tall trees Forever in shadow Surrounded By the deep mists Of the lake Only the dead Will visit This dark island They will never leave Arnold Böcklin

I frequently travel through Ash Usually when returning from Canterbury It is a large village typical of Kent With a history kind and sometimes unpleasant Today the village seems to be at peace with its history But who am I to tell as I am a recent outsider I have seen many photographs from its […]

You are glowing today Blush in your autumn dress But a sharp unexpected breeze Has loosened your bonnet And your scarf is now quite wild

Flower fairies Masked as mermaids Have Painted the depths Blue Red Blue and Green Red blue blue Blue red blue and green Cities have perished Leaving only These solitary colours Glowing between Rocks Blue green blue Red blue and green

Deep sea divers Clad only in rhymes Searched in the darkness For bouquets of flowers

Small dancers in red hose socks Are hopping from cloud to cloud The moon is white clear It illuminates the visiting shoals As they return from faraway bays

There is an acrobat in the sky tonight She is juggling with the moon Other performers are watching her From the safety of the cliffs A sea on a horse floats in the bay Everything is blue so very blue

Constantine Katla Have you noticed how much In the nineteen forties movies That actresses use their eyes You are thinking of Sister Ruth In Black Narcissus Very much It was an extraordinary movie Well ahead of its time Do I use my eyes Yes quite often But you have arctic eyes As cold as the […]