Saturday Sonnet #4

For Rebecca Chance, who asked for it… Death of a DIva My life, it seemed, had ended on one day Until I came across a certain bar And thought that I could turn the grim to gay Which thus explains why we are where we are. My star turns life’s been ended premature...

Saturday Sonnet #3

She thought that all I did was to keep house That she could waltz right in and take my man from me and I’d stay silent as a mouse. That I’d fight back was never in her plan. And yet how could I not when all I knew was heading West with Laura and her hair of yellow and...

On Murder

I’ve come, over the past week or so, to realise that the best murder mysteries are, ultimately, about serial killers. Not, necessarily, the Gory Hannibal Lecter type of serial killers; even the classic Agatha Christies, for example, seem to work even better when the...

My New York

The first time I went to New York was in 1993. The Twin Towers still stood, monolithic orientation points that allowed the visitor to tell uptown from downtown. The city – pre the Giuliani and Bloomberg sandblasting of its gritty façade – was the ultimate grown-up,...

Autumn Salsa

Some debate, recently, around when Autumn starts: Is it immediately after the end of August, or does the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness kick in the September Equinox (23rd, this year)? For me, it feels like it started this week. It’s been the saddest summers...