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The Days Stack Up
Recently, I was speaking to someone about journaling, and I casually mentioned I'd kept a diary consistently for over ten years. As I said it, it seemed wrong, so I checked the next day. Yup. Over ten years.
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 taken from Good On Paper.
Goal
Erasure poem taken from Crack Magazine editorial
Vapour Whisper
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
