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Dungeness


Nothing grows here but sea kale
and spite. We walk towards a horizon
that refuses to get any closer,
under the sun's pixelated glare.

Our Voices in the Chaos- now Free


In 2018 I was writing poems and putting erasure poems onto Instagram (much the same as today.) A small press called Selcouth Station approached me and asked if I wanted to make a pamphlet around those erasure poems. After a lot of work, the result was a hybrid pamphlet called Our Voices in the Chaos.

A Reminder to Myself


If you are reading this on a screen
your face glowing cold and blue
your hand reaching out across air,
put down your device. Look around.

Cloud Song


erasure poem: The sound was hungrily devoured./ What grabbed everyone was/ hypnotic extracts from the sky,/ frantic vocals captivating the air

As Above So Below


0.2

Mud as a river. Mud as a theoretical concept, the transistory state of matter rarely glimpsed. Mud described in complex equations. Mud as the consequence of our actions we refuse to acknowledge or take responsibility for, despite it chewing at our shins. Mud in our boots. Mud in our hair. Mud clogging up our pores so we sweat mud. Mud turning our hills to waterslides. Mud washing away our temporary shelters. Mud as a non-Newtonian fluid we can bounce across if we hit it hard enough. Mud as the inevitable future. Mud as penance. Mud as the herald, the herald of the flood.

Ambient II


After Aphex Twin

Cacophony


erasure poem: A slight chaos is obvious./ And what of that shadow/ either forgotten or lost?/Some different joy/ is out here screaming next to you

Shhhh


Listen, in between these seconds
plummeting like raindrops -

May and June 2023 Input


This is slightly late as I've thrown myself back into the world after a halting start to the year. I joined a gym, started going to more things and exploring the new area we live in. I also went to Birmingham and other places around the country a bit more.

Another espresso shot sky commute


I define myself by edges--my skin,
car bonnets- but I am oh so permeable.
Chest matching thumpthumpthump of potholes.
Clemency lies between radio stations,
in the pause before windshield wipers
swish back to starting positions.
Hands tapping morse on the steering wheel,
messages to distant and unseen agents.
My party trick is dissolving into vapour.
Rumble strips and cat's eyes broadcast:
"Forget all you know. Unlearn your old self.
A new world is forming in articulated lorry spray.
Rewild your petty dreams and ambitions."
Infusing clouds reach swirling fingers
to stroke my embossed flesh, damp comfort.

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