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I write poems and articles, and other collections of words. Sometimes I‘m commissioned by established outlets to do that, but often I’ve got far more words than they want or need. That’s why you can support me on Patreon.

Membership gets you access to extra articles and poems that I don’t publish anywhere else, as well as drafts and other bits and pieces.

You can contact me directly if you would like me to write for you. It doesn’t matter how big or small. I always welcome commissions.

Poetry

  • not your city

    sometimes there is comfort in distant sirens the city at night is full of sounds at once familiar and unnerving when you meet a fox at a crossroads its yellow marble eyes don’t blink you are the one that’s intruding with your heavy feet and concrete
  • let me down gently

    let me down gently
    into the fresh snowfall
    of a silent December day
    have not been salted
    and the sky is just a slate
    let me down gently
    into the fresh cut grass
    of an empty summer afternoon
    when the fields are fallen
    and the sun is proudly high

  • from the frozen grass

    they summon something
    from the frozen grass
    see portents in clouds of breath
    thrown in corduroy days
    of coats and scarves and hats
    the provoking click of a thermostat
    winter stretches out to an age
    and the sun is as distant
    as a disinterested parent
    they break the ice in puddles
    to watch the bergs set sail
    imagining enemies drowned there
    between the gutter and the curb
    in the sky the moon is idling
    and the clouds are turning grey
    the rain has plans to drown
    the sickly embers of the day

  • a portion of something

    no big demands today
    just a moment unbruised
    the fresh flesh of promise
    a new song seeming familiar
    quite loud enough to cut
    and when we go out
    the door opening easily
    the eager rain abating
    and a portion of something
    the delicious affordable

  • oddities

    all your oddities
    pinned out there
    like butterflies
    each one a specimen
    that could fly towards the sun
    or sleep drowsy in the shade
    all your oddities that dance in corners
    all your oddities the race to the river
    I want to carry them in the
    pristine part of my pocket
    to pull out when the day is long
    and the sky is dark with rain to arrange
    on the table in a ritual
    to call back the good times again

  • the time of better things

    these notions we have kept safe in matchboxes
    wrapped in cotton wool
    moved from flat to flat
    hopes with brittle bones
    waiting on broken wings
    keeping a small light on
    for the time of better things

  • a courting of disasters

    there are wolves in the forests
    when you dream your darkest
    dreams and the trap’s teeth snap
    around sweet ankle meat

    see the streetlights’ orange throw
    on the river’s sick green surface
    and down in the silty depths
    a great beast swims malevolent

    your nightmares have conventions
    but your lonely dreams take the night bus
    to fix a microwave meal for one
    and sleep alone while the tv carries on

    the sky fills with murders of ravens
    the city shrugs and shakes
    there are ashes to be scattered
    for a courting of disasters