My life was the size of my life.
Its rooms were room-sized,
its soul was the size of a soul.
In its background, mitochondria hummed,
above it sun, clouds, snow,
the transit of stars and planets.
It rode elevators, bullet trains,
various airplanes, a donkey.
It wore socks, shirts, its own ears and nose.
It ate, it slept, it opened
and closed its hands, its windows.
Others, I know, had lives larger.
Others, I know, had lives shorter.
The depth of lives, too, is different.
There were times my life and I made jokes together.
There were times we made bread.
Once, I grew moody and distant.
I told my life I would like some time,
I would like to try seeing others.
In a week, my empty suitcase and I returned.
I was hungry, then, and my life,
my life, too, was hungry, we could not keep
our hands off our clothes on
our tongues from
Slut! Is just bar after bar ! It’s so hard to pick a favorite but two deceptively simple ones I can’t stop think about are “being this young is art” and “love thorns all over this rose”
While she’s perhaps best known for her work as a guitarist and vocalist in the XX — and for writing songs for the likes of Dua Lipa — Romy Madley Croft has also been doing her own thing as a solo artist under the name Romy. Her first studio long-player, Mid Air, arrived this past September. “It’s a nostalgic but box-fresh dance album that taps into a deep well of feeling,” raves NME. “It’s the work of an artist with a sincere appreciation for dance music and the skills to make her own galvanizing bangers.” And last night the English singer-songwriter exuberantly closed out her American tour with a dance party at a sold-out Webster Hall.
Photos courtesy of Ken Grand-Pierre | www.kenamiphoto.com