Poem: Adultery


To say just what you feel is never easy. A woman’s clothes lying by her feet in a pile might be the foam from which a goddess is born or the frothy breakers of a sea that might rush in and overwhelm us. We can think that our acts are not our own and rather… Continue reading Poem: Adultery

Poem: Another Bright Sunday


In the endless metropolitan grey, the weekend flashes by between two darknesses. Millions wander lost in the pause; swimming, lying on the beach or flying, giving their bodies back for a moment to the elements from which they were made. Others die, going back to them for good; time has washed against them like waves… Continue reading Poem: Another Bright Sunday

Poem: The Night


Alone together just this side of dawn, you asked the questions and I traced my answers on your smoothed body parchment with just enough paint and inspiration to reach the end of a line before turning back, ready to start all over again. I wrote my hope on your shoulder blades, feeling the muscles taut… Continue reading Poem: The Night

Poem: The World


Wrapped snugly in its holed coat of space and time, the world puts up the hood and runs away, never showing its face and always one step ahead, casting us off like loose change as it goes. But the world doesn’t really move anywhere; it’s like a balloon on a string held by a child,… Continue reading Poem: The World

Poem: Necromancy


From one day to the next, I never know when the face will show itself again in a mirror or a pan of water, as if unearthed by the ceaseless, circling plough of my mind. It’s always the same; a happy, younger me, long gone, the dead returned to speak with the dying. I wonder… Continue reading Poem: Necromancy

Poem: Waiting at the Water’s Edge


Another day of hope and nothing slides into evening’s apologetic grey; I’m in love, but I don’t know who with. Somewhere, upstream of love and poetry’s floundering strokes, she’s sitting as fine and clear as the first gasp of oxygen. It’s getting dark and once more no one’s turned up; every day’s just a poor… Continue reading Poem: Waiting at the Water’s Edge

Poem: Thursday


And rose. And fell. Once more. Something at the corner of my eye is thrusting its bony fingers into the gaping cracks of my life, pushing its stained fingers into the empty spaces where my life should be, where all my principles and goals, my reason for being should be safely bedded down. I rose,… Continue reading Poem: Thursday