Tag Archives: A Parody of Borges

Writer in Exile

Dexter Stevenson
lime green ascot
and redundant cigarette holder,
never shook Hemingway’s hand;
never came to write the
great American novel,
never realised the fecund
potential of his literary dreams,
instead he was anthologised
in limited circulation magazines
from Baffin Island to Crete;
After the War,
a solitary screenplay was
optioned but never produced,
he had known the people
who had known the people
on the lot at R.K.O.;
They had Joseph Cotten
or was it Van Heflin,
test for the part
of George Meredith,
dissolute foreign correspondent
contemplating suicide,
John Huston was interested in
directing but made,
” Treasure of the Sierra Madre ” instead;
Dexter Stevenson’s prolonged sojourn
at the Hotel Nacional caused
much embarrassment in later years
for the proprietor and guest alike;
the raison d’etre for the hospitality
had since passed away into legend,
no-one now remembers Stevenson’s
deserted clifftop assignation with
that victim of the pill-bottle
her infamous golden locks
her winsome ” pooh pooh pah dooh ”
something he didn’t get away from;
Here deep in the labyrinth,
D.S. finally got away
from himself.

Mystery of the Numbers

What do the numbers do when calculators are switched off ?

And when they are switched back on again ,

will the sums add up the same as before ?

Have numbers taken to redefining themselves ,

their values ,their own worth in the hidden realm

where we can’t see them ?

Are addition ,subtraction ,division ,multiplication

set in their ways ?

Inviolable .invariable ,inexorable  or are they

a matter of conjecture ,interpretation ,uncertainty ?

Only the numbers themselves can truly know

what the consequences are of those policies

and principles decided upon in secret conclave ;

far from our gaze ,beyond our mortal comprehension

the sum of two plus two hesitates to give an answer .