Blogging from Ajman.

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On the road this week. Myself and a whole bunch of cool guys who work with our TV show. Thank the universe for some laughs, lots of laban,sea water all along the horizon, many a sunset shoot, aircon when we need it, a tripod I can carry to exercise a bit, strong muscles moving in the sun, mountains with cold breezes and an oud player whose voice still echoes in spaces of memory I hold with me amongst the skyscrapers. I should start adding pictures to this site. I promise to do so soon.
The guys are setting up shots inside. We are talking to an older photographer who reminds me of the politeness of my father. I am missing poetry, here is one of my favorites, as a lovely young man brings me orange tea steaming and the mosque starts its prayer. Caffeine, poetry, film.
Still waiting on the Poeticians to send me more of their work and bios. Ahh, I have become nazi like in my virtual stalking of them. I’m hanging on to their promises, promises.
And now, a poem.

Lovesong
by Ted Hughes

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and Sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Or everlasting or whatever there was
Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy place
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His word were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assasin’s attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon’s gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall
Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other’s face.

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