The whiskey on your breathCould make a small boy dizzy;But I hung on like death:Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pansSlid from the kitchen shelf;My mother’s countenanceCould not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wristWas battered on one knuckle;At every step you missedMy right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time […]
the sadness of dispossessed dresses,
/ the decency of good coats roundshouldered
/ in the darkness of wardrobes,
/ the gravitas of lapels,
/ the invisible danders of…
For the screwfaced in good shoes that paper
/ the walls of dance halls. I have little patience.
/ I say dance, not to…
Every summer, I visit the Scottish Prince
/ at his castle high on a hill outside Crieff.
/ We dine on haggis and tatties…
/ The third film was in Beijing when Antony and I decided to hit the hutongs one last time on the…
When I have talked for an hour I feel lousy –
Not so when I have danced for an hour: