The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Saturday 17 November 2012

Neanderthal Withdrawal


Fear the Beast’s inner feast
That ancestors of animals enjoy.

How similar is the smile to the snarl? 
That show of canine emotion.

How like the predator’s eye 
Behind the flash of the lash?

How familiar is the red
On her nails and lips?

Our blood relative,
Adrenaline kin
Which waits within.