by Poetry

You’re in my fingers and I can’t get you out;
I can smell you. Warm & wet & dreaming – every time I push a key,
you come curling out
smoke in good light given
form – not human, something else; an angel,
if I believed in angels; a devil
if I could believe sin had rewards; a muse
with more talent than I;

– I don’t need this; I’m okay, I’m
alright; the scabs running up my arm
tell me I’m okay now –

hands, paralysed, locking up, running
out of letters that aren’t your name; all words given
up the ghost for endless silence but my
bargains – desperate one-sided negotiations driven
largely, by candlelight & whiskey & pills;

                     I’d burn everything I’ve wrote –
                           delete every picture that graces my phone –
                           unfrown every frown I’ve frowned –
                           unsmile every smile I’ve smiled –
                           tear the abandoned paintings from the shadows of my wardrobes –
                           erase every drawing & dream –
                           smash each record that made my youth bearable –
                           forget every drink that made me smart & sarcastic –

just for a few seconds of your lips
or your fingers
gently gracing

Free eBooks

modern poetry

A Red Dress

A red dress, and said “when you were a boy”; I choked on love; I was a boy and you were the night forest – lost, scared, alone in you, alone with the wind moans through bracken branches making a stranger’s bed with my name engraved in the headboard, with...


I can’t escape your smell; releasemy fingers, my eyes, my beards, my masks, my clothes & my car                I’ve tried everything; - cigarettes on my finger - Titian exhibits for my eyes - bleach in my beard - blood on my shirts & mud on my jeans - broken...

Line Of Sugar

These street signs have buckled beneath their own weight, as they were always bound to do, and their interiors are hollow shadow and shaped metal and filled with plastic bags. It doesn’t rain, but water falls from the open skies, and all the rodents move in the times...

December 4th, 2017

I’m not going to make this about love.
heard all your warnings,
don’t want to be pigeonholed.
I know other things
intimately; low-slung couches
cigarettes & spontaneous electrical surges.