Part 1 Ici repose un soldat Francois mor… (1914-1918). Beneath this flame there is no tom… no ashes grace that empty bed,
When I skip it usually takes two or three tries to get going. I lash the rope overhead and it crashes into my ankles. I try again, faster, and this
So, you’re leaving then? After all these years. The highs, the lows, and the in-be… You’re off. No, of course I’m not ‘ok.’
Awkwardly, I walked up the slende… The lecture theatre was full (a ra… There, at the front, was a bald ma… Behind him, in large font, were th… ‘Introduction to Creative Writing…
Oh woe is me, woe betide! In you I have chosen to confide My tale of grief and misery But please, don’t let me spoil you… I have suffered more than enough
At work we wait for work to end To give us time to rest and mend ‘Put your feet up’, ‘relax’ and ‘c… Which is well and good, until— Work is really over.
Restless, I put on my joggers, pa… yellow beanie and mask. I look a s… but I don’t care. I can’t sleep a… to halt the endless turning of my… I step outside.
One foot stumbles into another as It pushes off uninviting concrete One step. Two step. Three step.… Earlier that foot pushed off a war… Bed, where You lay, beckoning me…
Where to start? At the beginning, I suppose. Stepping off an eight-hour New Yo… into pitch black, sweltering humid… the kind that makes your already s…
Walk backwards all day and forward… Fly a kite at twilight– twice. Fa… Fall out of love. Repeat. Go danc… two left feet, then two right, the… Visit Hungary, Spain and Canada.
Sat Here Thinking. Fingers Buried
When we love it’s not us not really. We love with the child inside. If we’re lucky
Life is short, but also - so very… At least, that’s how it feels some… strain of getting through today is… than the mountain of yesterday, wh… already left you sick inside your…
I told you once, I told you twice… I’m real as real can be. Now turn around, Mr Deckard, and do not follow me. My memories are personal,
The insides of my stomach Are a bubbling Bubonic Scattered Mess