My writing

My writing that is published on this site, including lots of creative commons poetry.

  • It’s the staleshit smell hanging under the perfume in the white-tiled shopping-mall toiletIt’s the bony old cat in the house of the chubby-faced studentsIt’s the streak of smog above the blue and white beachfrontIt’s the distant sirenIt’s the one string that won’t stay in tuneIt’s whoever grew old, then young, then diedIt’s the black edge Read more

  • of my

    but I can close eyes and listen to the rain in bed or in the kitchen or walking somewhere close eyes and listen and I’m under a big black beautiful wing there’s a heartbeat steady and full of unspoken beats in time with mine so what does it look like? the church of my built Read more

  • I am holding alienation with a space at one end for my thumb and a spike at the other for my hide Its hull pressures my joints I squeeze but it remains solid I pick it up, I put it down It is icy tiny gravel, abrasive even on my tough skin I am holding Read more

  • Crashlanded. Wheels torn off, emptied lamps [un]staring, strange innards exposed and tossed. Wreck, hulk, husk, hunkered on dirt, becoming dirt. A sapling reaches up from her guts. First published in The Broadkill Review Read more

  • /windowface

    Waiting for Venetian lines lines lines crammed crumpled under paired square staring windeyes. Gaping sash crooked mouth: what spilled out? What content behind the solemn concrete paintedwhite brow? No nose: can’t smell the dim plastic pipes creeping over the dank dark wall. What flows? What ghostmonster lurks silver bullet train[ed] all eye in that mouth, Read more

  • every day

    If I may have your love I will treasure it not as a jewel, not as a keepsake, but as a favourite book, kept on the table, taken on the train. I might bend its spine. I’ll try not to break it but I can’t promise. If some pages loosen I’ll tape them back in Read more