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Discovering My Allergy to Scallops


'You don't want to end up like me,'
the man on stage screeches.
Laughter unstoppable now, like
a falling body embracing gravity.
'I'm serious. Why is that funny?'
I feel three hundred people's heat

Pressure Drop


erasure poem: That lonely sky has dimmed./ That bitter cold wind is in us

Erasure poem taken from Good On Paper.

Goal


erasure poem: I hope to fall/ into a state/ of deep tenderness

Erasure poem taken from Crack Magazine editorial

Vapour Whisper


erasure poem: I walk towards the sky/ the quiet forming around me/ something indescribable in the ribbons of smoke

Erasure poem taken from Crack Magazine

When I took my mattress my duvet and their dreams


I said I was keeping them for safety and I almost believed it. I laid down in the middle of the nearest woodland and named it Mine. I rigged canvas between two branches but the wind whistled through my bone marrow. Waking in the night, I started a fire, using their dreams as kindling. I had plenty to spare. Still I did not sleep soundly, So I felled the ancient oaks and built a bed frame from the trunks, raising myself above the cold ground. When this failed, I chopped down every tree I could see, whittled and planed the wood to planks, transformed the land to make myself a shelter, created walls around my bed to define outside.

Gathering


We are racing against the dying of the day
over fields flooded with twigs and silence
towards a broiling bruise left by a canula,
our tinny engine whine now a mosquito.

Ego Death on the M4


I am driving home at night
hands gripping the wheel
empty tarmac surrounding me
fertiliser stinging my nostrils
The engine shaking all the space
between my scattered atoms

Three Tips to Declutter Your Life


I love performing poetry at open mics and often write poems specifically for performance. This poem is one that is written for the stage, not the page. I read at Satellite of Love's wonderful open mic recently and Barry Hollow was kind enough to film it.

Churn


erasure poem: Beneath melancholy distorted joy/the complex emotions/shift constantly

A Manifesto for Art as Self Care


I've been thinking a lot about creative 'rules' and how arbituary they are. As it's the new year, I've been wondering where I want to take my poetry and my creativity and have decided I want to do it for its own sake. I want to focus more on the wellbeing aspects of writing and making things rather than the end result.

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