Soil
My parents are gardeners not by trade but by passion, And I was raised to love plants and climb trees but I was afraid of creepy-crawlies and often found myself…
Category: Poetry
Beginning again, again, again
This is a beginning that will be repeated again and again and again This is a story that is being retold, the same but new Beginning is the oldest thing…
Late October
Persephone’s term begins the year’s dry lament Even while nymph’s paint gold dead leaves on the cement They force the evergreens to stay to cloak Demeter’s curse. That steals their…
Abrasive
I am abrasive. I am armed to the teeth with knives of hand and mind and fangs and quips behind these lips so it can be unwise to tell me…
Blaze
It is as simple as skin on skin, And as pure as day’s first light, No words can justify the thing That against all odds just might Save the very…
Contrasts
There are contrasts and you’ve got to laugh. I am nearly finished university, brushing out my hair at the top of the stairs, the longest it has been in eight…
My Body is a Battleground
Are you the subject of debate? Not a debater or a judge but a motion waiting to be carried or defeated. And to hate someone not because they are evil…
Hello Old Friend
This would feel like the middle of a beautiful friendship if I wasn’t explaining where I’ve been – again and this might take a good few lines. See, I know…
