I’m tired, and it’s late. So this may not be the most polished of posts.

It’s a long time since I last posted. Too long; I started this blog as part of a freeing exploration of the erotic and sensual side of myself (OK, imagine me sensually exploring you too if you must . . . ) and I was indeed finding it a liberating experience: expressing my true self in areas that often remain hidden. Getting into conversation with some amazing people. Being free to talk intelligently and sensitively about sensuality and eroticism . . . being free from having to choose between talking sexually and talking intelligently. Bringing together the part of me that wants to think and reflect, and the part that wants to give pleasure to every inch of someone’s body . . . letting myself be my whole self.

What happened?

It wouldn’t be right to go into a lot of detail, so I’ll just say that one or two things happened in my life which knocked that exploration off course somewhat. And that it was more difficult than I expected to get back on track.

Well, I’m feeling my way back again. (And talking of feeling, I like the warmth of your skin under my fingers . . . Hang on, that’s not the kind of feeling I meant . . . I do though, and if I just kiss here and here and here and gently . . . Look you’re distracting me, that’s not what I . . . Oh gosh yes do that some more . . . Mmmm . . . Damn I really can’t concentrate . . . )

Sorry, where was I?

Oh yes. I was exploring, and being sidetracked, and feeling my way, and being sleepy. Too sleepy to write as thoughtfully as I’d like to. Too sleepy to satisfy my own perfectionism. Sleepily running my hands over your . . .

I value this blog, and I value what writing it gives me, even though I’ve been absent for a while. Today, I especially value those friends who have noticed my absence and asked me about it. I really appreciate that. It feels good. I hope to post more regularly again. I hope you’ll enjoy what I write, whatever I explore. And I hope that despite my sleepiness now, this will all seem coherent when I read it again in the morning.

Time to sleep. And dream . . .

I don’t really think of myself as a poet, but I enjoy trying to write haiku—maybe because they’re nice and short so I have a fighting chance of finishing one.

Proper Japanese ones have a traditional structure involving a seasonal reference, a “cutting word” and a contrast of ideas, but it’s popular now simply to take a pattern of seventeen syllables—five then seven then five—and use that to create a short poem in English.

These three are intensely personal. The first expresses my basic belief in respect and in the amazing preciousness of friendship; the other two talk about the times when friendship isn’t quite enough, but is all I have. The heart is not the only part of a person which can feel loneliness.

They all began in the 5-7-5 pattern, but I’ve done some editing since. Interestingly, even seventeen syllables is sometimes too many. It’s best not to be legalistic.


The most sacred place
is another human heart:
treat with reverence.


Skin against bare skin
tenderly exploring you
—I wake, alone.

The truth

Hearts need their friendships
but bodies too want love:
mine is alone.


I’ve changed the last line of the second one since I first posted it. I originally didn’t like the repetition of “alone” between the second and third poems. But they’re meant as indivdual poems, so I’ve changed it to the version I most like even though it’s now a bit odd when they’re read together.

And now I’ve amended the first one slightly too . . . And the third. OK, they’re now ALL different . . . !