‘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”

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’”

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”

Another Art

Little by little I am learning the art of wasting time, the marathon of days.   Cycling slower, stopping almost to bide time with hives of wisteria and pink petal shavings, like candy floss in the gutter.   Then going farther faster  limbs burning  lungs unfolding  palms like oysters  on melted ice clasped but curdling as they beginContinue reading “Another Art”

The Bookworm Riddle

Translation of ‘Riddle 47’ from The Exeter Book A moth ate words. When I heard about this wonder, It seemed to me a curious thing, that the worm should gobble The sayings of some unnamed man, That the thief in the dark should steal his glorious speeches, The foundation of their mighty meanings. And yetContinue reading “The Bookworm Riddle”