Ode to Patrizia Cavalli: My Poems Won’t Change the World

She had me at the title. I remember it well – a rainy afternoon in the Waterstones on Garrick Street, about 5 years ago. I hadn’t heard of Patrizia Cavalli before that day, but was immediately drawn in by the sincerity of her self-deprecation, the nonchalance of her pose in that armchair photo on theContinue reading “Ode to Patrizia Cavalli: My Poems Won’t Change the World”

‘Does it hurt?’: newly published by Ink, Sweat and Tears

Good things come in threes – after much (often unsuccessful) submitting, I have another poem up on Ink, Sweat and Tears – a webzine with real soul run by the wonderful Helen Ivory. This one is very tender, very close to my heart. I hope it speaks for itself without much need for explanation, butContinue reading “‘Does it hurt?’: newly published by Ink, Sweat and Tears”

Summer Evening

Ekphrasis, after Edward Hopper  when at last you crossed my lawn  through the dank of late July  all I could see was the way sweat pooled  in the creases of your shirt  the glint in your eyes as they scrutinised   the fissure in my chest  the pot of beans boiling over behind the curtain  andContinue reading “Summer Evening”

New poems on Wild Court: ‘Arrival’ and ‘Questions to a mound’

I am very pleased to have two new poems on Wild Court – a wonderful journal founded in the English Department during my degree at King’s College London. Both poems are, coincidentally, connected in some way to that time. ‘Arrival’ is inspired by my home of 2 years on the Regent’s Park Estate in Camden;Continue reading “New poems on Wild Court: ‘Arrival’ and ‘Questions to a mound’”

Sylvanian Families

you learn to wait for life to happen in your single bunk, gazing up at Smila Stjärna or across the room to the doll’s house you adorned with little hedgehogs, little kettles, little women’s things towards the window where you plan to escape on your brother’s go-kart, ride in rings around the mossy yard, string ofContinue reading “Sylvanian Families”

Religious people are happier, study finds

I had not spent time with my faithlessness  until I was faced with the emptiness of Brompton Oratory  the vacancy of god between the pews the slow unpeopled creak of confession boxes  and a spectral nod of candle heads  communing with the dust I did not think of it again until the following summer inContinue reading “Religious people are happier, study finds”

What have I built?

I suppose it has something to do with the porch where I opened the trinket shop, selling lumps  of gravel and dandelions through the letterbox, or the cockle shells arranged in a witch’s seance  along the edges of our rug, inhaling the smell of settled soot, door shut, waiting for life to happen. Then somethingContinue reading “What have I built?”

Change of Scene

We are christened by a first blizzard –   not the first in our lives but here in this half-year home, where we nested  on the hottest day, in the hottest year,  earth curdling at the top of those stairs.  Now I’m by the window and though  the stairs pretend to go somewhere I’d never guessContinue reading “Change of Scene”

Migrating Season

Fifth time in five years and like always days dragged their feet then sprinted, until with the shrivelled fruit of August I am sweating boxes, dripping saucepans to another crater of this city. Heat bears down, desk fan churns but missing this place? Its panorama of bins, the guy who daily examines his dick, thickContinue reading “Migrating Season”

The Marbles

Sometimes gaps tell the story – a Scottish nobleman one stifling summer    something led to another and before the city had woken up crates of treasure grew legs and descended the fortress years passed six thousand islands fished the same flag from the sea people without a country gained a country survived earthquakes and smashedContinue reading “The Marbles”