Poem: Pressed

Crackled and hissed into life; whispering imperfection and seeking small sweet adjustments.

Poem: The breath of everything

I’ve held the breath of everything in my lungs at one time or another. 

Poem: My winter sunshine

I’m perfectly insane, or imperfectly sane, dependant on the time or the shade of the day. 

The Devil’s view

‘“D’you mind?” called the corpulent chap she’d collided with seconds before and whose second Evening Standard, slipped the fold of the first and slid to the floor.’

Poem: Embarrassed by this revolution

I heard talk of a revolution and I slipped away, embarrassed, eager to finish my coffee and to not be … More

Poem: The forgotten

Line us up. Line us up and check us in. Check us out and hand us our cheques. “You. Not … More

Poem: The view from here

Where we are, is a place that we inhabit. But is it truthful, or a simple lie? Where are you? … More

Poem: Plectrum Found, London

I found a plectrum at Liverpool Street station; Bottom of the stairs rising up to Bishopsgate; A bottomless blue like … More

Poem: 26

Sorry, is this seat taken? Errrha. Do you mind if I open. The next bus stop. Hurrff. A-a-hurrff. No no, … More

Mirror me

‘The reflection had only existed for a matter of moments, but it already knew what it thought of the man.’

Poem: Historic language

Your eyes have your age, but your ears have your father’s. The wisdom of words wears through the plains of … More

Poem: A rage

Fevered fury creeps up my neck and throttles my words with filthy, scarred fingers. I’m chained powerless to a chair, … More

Poem: I am not the same as you

I am not the same as you. I don’t have the same rhythm, The same tempest, The same dreams. 

Poem: On writing

I could have written my defining work already, which is a terrifying thought considering my quantifiable lack of achievement.

Poem: Never ending bloom

What grows from the wars we wage? Fields of poppies grew before, blood red and swaying brittle and fragile on … More