in a world where it seems that we have almost-constant and practically unlimited access to other people, creating and maintaining boundaries is a strange ocean to navigate. i’m sure man...

i’m constructing a matchstick hous… work balancing sticks which might… them at a single twitch, when i sh… polishing windows. but i don’t wan… to see me. i put two-way mirrors i…

moon vines snap shut, strawberry s… the fruit. you take the penrose st… wonderland, spiralling like a frac… circling the hamlet behind my eyes on splintered clock-hands. time, i…

your thoughts walk six steps ahead… you move among them, keeping their… searching for signs; twitches in s… fingers which sketch faceless imag… freckled cheekbones for patterns w…

the trick is to cast the widest of… to drag the salt of the tides over… wounds, let it soften them into se… the body writes new habits and liv… between, carrying the fire of melo

i was not made by mistake, constru… of pieces plucked from the ether.… freckle is non-accidental– from th… spray-painted sunbursts on my chee… almost-perfect starry plough on my…

i’d always hoped my fingertips wou… the right amount of gentle to pluc… out whole, but i could never find… of what drew me so close. trying t… the stillness but settling into st…

this body is not intimacy, it is a curation without context, and you cannot take what you did n… seeing is an instant– behind the f… lie the scrawls of ages, the aband…

every grain is a mary oliver poem if you make such short work o… if you ricochet, somehow sillier, always softer. the wilful amnesia of this writer makes time metaboli…

i wonder where the forgotten words… in corked bottles, on shelves. att… find an ending while i tie yesterd… afternoon to the tail end of grann… tiffin recipe– no sultanas, just

i left my head at the threshold; o… dose and i’m evicted from earth, l… eavesdrop from a time—worn liminal… the placenames replaced by grooved… the paths overgrown with locked be…

once, you didn’t think you’d break… then you sprung towards a sky pain… as a newborn’s nursery. a shrinkin… violet loath to grow, content as a seedling, phantom blooms lopped be…

i was a blank slate 'til i turned… and two stars set my clavicle abla… the prologue to a new anthology penned upon skin, etched by reques… leaves gave me new roots. palms ho…

for the twenty-sixth time, i have kept my appointment with the wicker man. i have set alight an effigy of the before and began anew; sifting through the charred remains and pocketing wh...

you look at me like maybe i’m magi… and now i’m unafraid of feeling fu… your sitting room– that suntrap of… nonchalance and breakfast spreads… bugbear that comes unstuck the sec…