It ain’t a who but a how*

Love ain’t a who but a how.

Love ain’t a why but a now.

Love ain’t a time but a place.

Love ain’t a race but a fate.

Love ain’t too late –

and if it is, it ain’t love.

And so I realise my capacity 

to love another

ain’t limited to one,

nor needs 

to be one 

in particular


And all the women I have loved

who refused to love me back

are no longer in the awful sack

I once 

carried on my back.

To KD, M, K and C:

I am 

beginning to gain freedom

of your absence and rejections.

Ejections of violent passivity:

no longer a thing

in the bling of my life.

A new life stretches 


now quite before me:

one of thought-

through ambitions – no longer perceptions  

of rigid tradition, 

of patterns and 

terrible stultifications.

The freedom to think 

without boundaries blinkered:

I am sudden young boy

with the biggest toy I did


* Thanks to Em & Co: you are forging my liberty …

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