Poetry
Corkscrew
a decapitant
on a metal bench
outside the converted church
where could I go
then for my conversions
where could I rest
8:07 Saturday Morning
tesco express
Piccadilly red wings
dripping from my fingers
a crumpled suit stretched
hung by the neck
my guillotine body
Cotton Books
body-bed-body torturous
he read for hours
until the night feeling & bedsheets
undisturbed
more than a form
& the long-dead
Sul Serio
I had a friend
who used to inject
ink straight
into his arteries
black tracks
running up his arms;
Prose
Toothless
The crowds screamed – they wouldn’t stop screaming for him, cheering for him. He stood on the old stage, bloody with the years. His feet slid behind the pedestal, and his bare toes were wet with the lifeblood of everyone who had stood there before
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…
Essays & Articles
Why is Free Verse So Popular?
As a modern person trying to write, I find myself immediately moving towards free verse. The main reasons for this are, basically, that most of my poetic heroes wrote in free verse. What would Howl have been, for example, if it was forced to move within the confines...
Swimming Against Themselves; George Orwell and Albert Camus
George Orwell and Albert Camus had arranged to meet at the Deux Magots café, in February of 1945. Despite their differences…
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