Jennifer Moxley

for Keith Whenever I fear myself a bore I think of listening. I should, I tell myself, do it more. I know a man who can give more attention to his meal than a room, yet still listen. He looks suspiciously like Ruskin. He does not boast. Yet if h [...]

Not forced to fall for hideous Phaon nor to drift dreamlike from a Victorian cliff, pursued by visions of slender limbs, peach-soft hair dewy violets clustered in an unwilling lap, not exiled on a distant island for writing smartly about love not cal [...]