Dockyard Hymnal
You learned to love London at sixteen. All of it: from the streets around your home that your father wanted cleaned by baptism to the sludge of my banks. You had a love for that, though—the grubby, the many-sided. The only form of sacrament these streets ever get is when I am summoned to [&
t4t
I’ve asked around about you And get the vaguest answers, It’s not enough to paint an impression. How many grooves have you memorised To blend so well into the wall? You are a mirror, an artist of conceit, The in-between of a million things, I want to peel you off the walls bump By bump [&hel
Grassroots II
this night the night to hear to let the world run through her veins through all her veins to let to let it all of it run through his veins through all the veins to hear to hear the night this night *** The poem above recounts an evening at Saint Frideswide’s Farm, [
Maislie and Japlicorn
You wake to my eyes staring at you in the room where you loved me. Something rolls up from the depths of my stomach and rams against my lips. I’m sick. I can only spit bile, hold you where it hurts as you pull: drag me back to June, when your kisses were sweet, […]
Easter Weekend
When time stopped, at some point between frost on the grass and the break of summer, there was a day when we all went to the river. I packed my swimming costume, optimistically, given it was the end of March. I was in a good mood, smoking again, my body was so wonderfully […]
Body at Stake
Boys will be boys—my hands are tied! A witch, they scream, she’s the devil’s crook, She’s seasoned with sins. I burn—I cook. My body is here! Mine! And naked upon the stake. So, gird your loins for the big strip tease: The fire and myself at one, at ease. A biting
