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Author: Rodney Wetherell

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The sunroom monk's cell

    • Rodney Wetherell
    • 01 September 2020
    5 Comments

    While I was musing I heard scratching noises, faint, bothersome, at the mind’s edge, rather like mice nibbling and scuttling, or polter-somethings working through the ceiling. Then my nostrils tingled — hints of a smell, or one remembered or imagined.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    No sex please, we're praying

    • Rodney Wetherell
    • 07 June 2016
    2 Comments

    In prayer, our minds are sex-free, let us hope; our thoughts of God do not include the body, his or ours, svelte or chunky, erotic perfume should be undetectable, ditto the sense of orgiastic writhing sent down to us from digital porn heaven. Should your inner eye pick out an angel, beautiful, and fixing eyes on you, or Jesus wearing little but a wisp of cloth across a gym-toned body streaked with blood, contact your counsellor, ring that number - you've wandered to the opposition site.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Redesign my soul

    • Rodney Wetherell
    • 01 September 2015
    4 Comments

    My soul's antennae are TV-tested for searching power, speed, vibrations — sluggishness is found, and some corrosion, but not a power of deep delusion. I pass, but barely — could do better. Empathy is down, the next test finds, neighbours more passed by than loved. And do I love myself?

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Dorothy enjoys a funeral

    • Brook Emery and Rodney Wetherell
    • 05 July 2011
    2 Comments

    Awful to think of her lying in that polished box, plump though somewhat wasted. It's a mercy, someone's bound to say, yet tearful Bill may not agree.

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