||[Mar. 17th, 2007|02:13 pm]
For many years my imagination kept going back to Egypt- not to the real Egypt so much, but to an Egypt of the imagination- most particularly to Alexandria- a city I've never visited.
(Well, not in this lifetime, anyway.)
And to the friends I have there.
Firstly, St Antony of Egypt- my namesake. He crops up in a lot of my poems. He and I were introduced by our mutual friend Hieronymous Bosch. We share an interest in solitude and demons.
Secondly Hypatia- my soul friend. Where St Antony stayed in costume, Hypatia was happy to change into denim. I used to talk to her a lot. She found me ridiculous and said so. The longest poem I've ever written belongs to her.
Who? Why? What? No, I don't want to answer those questions. There are some things one shouldn't poke about in with one's nasty, inky fingers.
I haven't visited either of them in a very long time. It wouldn't feel right to do so. But they're still there, sitting in their caves. And still dear to me. Very dear.