• Ashen Berry

    I hear the ticking of the clock,
    Beating and faceless.
    The ashen berry stare
    That straddles at the hip... more »

  • Chi

    She always wondered what it would be like
    To speak Italian,
    Because being continental is all the rage these days.
    Covering over the size 16 with discreetly placed... more »

  • Fallen

    The beam of lamplight strides across the water,
    Ebbing at my feet in off-blue garments -
    Enamored with the crows,
    As I pass here daily;... more »

  • Falling Slowly

    I unfold myself again-
    The soft tap.
    Perspex borrowed pen.
    Pick me up with your paper knives,... more »

  • Hazel

    Maybe I have met you here once before,
    Long ago, I had walked upon this floor.

    You have hung up there,... more »

  • Helvetica

    The snow always seemed to arrive at the wrong time,
    During journeys on sidewalks or right before the last stop,
    Where an old lady keenly eyes the occupied seats and grumbles about
    Jesus or something.... more »

  • Jezebel

    There was always a shimmer in the bottle,
    Whilst the ceiling has become my other half;
    Cobwebbed and stewing in a red afterglow.
    The street lights flicker toward the surface;... more »

  • Laburnum

    And so you have fallen again,
    Clatter, clatter –
    Attracted to the corners.... more »

  • Number 41

    And so it has begun again.
    A vague touch
    Or a cold rapture down my spine,
    Drawing itself in through the glass.... more »

  • Once

    I am happy here,
    With my worn out clothes,
    And a packet of cigarettes-
    That papered gold.... more »

  • Seamstress

    I have sewn upon “The Tree of Life”,
    Modest stitches,
    Yellow, red,
    A once loving eye... more »

  • Smoke

    And so she rose again,
    Attracted to the corners.
    If only you could have stayed a little longer;
    To cover over the embers that still burn here.... more »

  • Snowflake

    Burnished black vortex,
    The water filters through.
    Siphoning grief at my base as if I were accustomed;
    Alike the trees above the crag.... more »

  • Still Life

    The stroll has begun again,
    For the one that made me change my name.
    No longer am I your dancer in the dark,
    The tightrope has become quite dated.... more »

  • Swallow

    Fly away my little swallow,
    Perching there upon those tracks -
    For we have lain so long.... more »