I wrote this after seeing Leonard Cohen in concert, which was sometime in 2011 I think. His voice seemed so frail, it made me rather sad. The reference to the golden voice is from his song ‘Tower of Song’


Sit with me and my sweet libretto
I will tell you
Under columns of light
In my golden voice
One by one
These are all the girls I have lost
Their names on scraps of paper
I snared them with music
And broke them with words
Like barbs
Like arrows
And how I hated them
For being beautiful
I never shouted
(Except in Greek)
For fear that I might ruin
That golden voice
Now all stone
The girls are all gone
Only the words are left
Like barbs
Like arrows
Pointing nowhere


Editing poetry: Lying in the kitchen is best left to mothers

When my head is lying on the floor [still]
I can hear the [white] noises
Coming through the ceiling
The thump of a refrigerator [dying]
And the white [black] shudder as it realises something terrible [mother]

The noises make me think of [a list] tiny red lights,
Small dead dogs in ditches fur matted
Songs that go all wrong
Fingers spliced open Leonard Cohen [nakedness is a song],
A cold wind and a blue bottle on the counter top [end]
Thin trickles of blood running down my arms
Veins on the outside[end].

via Editing poetry: Lying in the kitchen is best left to mothers.