Well I love this Grassy it is so unique and I can find nothing to crit as 
usual with your work. Like someone else said it is a pleasure to read and 
your imagination is superb. This poem captures for me the essence of love 
with an old excentric. So many phrases that I like but especially "they 
freshen the air with a lemon grass scent" and "the smell of burnt feathers 
and incense between the thighs". When someone is madly in love the act of 
making love can be a spiritual experience and I think you have capture this 
in humour. Not in the sickly "stick you fingers in your mouth way"
but with a kind of way that is new and fresh and gives a rather excentric 
view of love.
A great poem for me Grassy and thanks for the enjoyable read. Sally J


>From: grasshopper <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: My Life with a Latin Professor
>Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 07:58:39 +0100
>
>
>
>My Life with a Latin Professor
>
>Lorenzo has been taken by aliens again.
>They caught him four nights ago in the car park
>outside the Conjuror's Half-Crown, took him up into the starry
>starry night, as he puts it. The mothership was retro,
>tricked out with silver plastic and plump crimson velvet
>like a '50s cinema foyer. They freshen the air
>with a lemon-grass scent. I smell it on
>his jacket, one tone above the cigarette smoke.
>Nicotine is a habit that hit the greys hard.
>
>Last month I was carried off by a band
>of raiding seraphim.The smell of incense
>and burnt feathers lingered between my thighs
>for days. I hummed Holy Holy Holy as I vacuumed
>mats and rearranged our dust with feathers.
>Strange how he and I remain such tempting prey
>to skyfolk but perhaps the conjunction
>
>of pheromones that first brought us together calls
>upwards like a signal beacon. And abductions,
>these enforced absences, are in one way welcome
>lacunae in the mundane act of togetherness. Who knows
>where Lorenzo will be next week, or how far up
>I will fly. I do not envy our friends' uninterrupted
>coupling, their drab separations by appointment.
>
>Tomorrow I may be radared by an eagle
>seeking a swan.Today I scramble five eggs with milk,
>not forgetting a dash of mustard, and spoon
>the pale mimosa into two willow pattern bowls.
>With a wholemeal toast and strong coffee, that will see us
>through till lunch. We step out under the open sky
>like eyelets waiting to be hooked. Our history
>will be as much vertical as horizontal. Our hearts
>are always thudding like wings.
>
>
>
>M.A.Griffiths