Upon the Poet, in His 25th Year

Let it be no calmer in your hands; time enough
for the calm, the warmth and the cold in the grove…

Hollowed Out

You hollowed me out and lived in my skin.
When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t me looking out…

On the Bird’s Wings

I find it impossible to write you poetry;
dense, leaden, eyes like mine that strain

After the Parasites Came

I draw my grandfather’s lungs in charcoal spit the fluid in his throat; tremor in art as is the shaking hands when he goes to lift the tea to his lips. Making leaves in old mugs transferred to sipping cups and the brief illumination of the body...

The Grand Western

I don’t remember much of the days we spent together, roaming a water’s edge, watching black summer storms rolling in across the ocean; I remember Guitar Hero was my seduction, like clutching buttons too tightly was a sign of things to come;...

Mesnes Park

How coarse the street-piano’s language appears, how brutish and dumb when spavined hands perform ugly permutations in the air; conjuring that beastly Autumn, right before the rain. Our summers came wet, too; blistering light which made eyes –...

Night Terrors

When Nox and I go panting beneath, we
have asked the same black questions;

She Wore Blue Velvet

The ceiling is covered in paintings, with no theme or substance or style but woman, and they flow down the walls like all of history…

Sometimes

Sometimes, we kneel in the shower with the pressure
and the heat turned up as high as they can go…

The Air Spoke

She places her cigarette on the edge of the desk and watches it smoulder. The sunlight catches the smoke in its hands…

Poetry

After the Parasites Came

After the Parasites Came

I draw my grandfather’s lungs in charcoal spit the fluid in his throat; tremor in art as is the shaking hands when he goes to lift the tea to his lips. Making leaves in old mugs transferred to sipping cups and the brief illumination of the body...

Reviews & Poetry Reviews

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Prose

Battery Tea Lights

Battery Tea Lights

‘You’re not romantic;’ she said, ‘you’re too sarcastic to be romantic – you just laugh at anything I say’.

Essays & Articles

A Gangrenous Limb

A Gangrenous Limb

A Short Essay On Morality And Atheism. There is a certain duty of atheism and of atheists. That duty wears the collar of logic. They need to be logical, intelligent and morally superior. They need to adhere to a certain code that features all the moral features of...

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