How do you start to write a poem, “who do you love?” First, throw out the rhyme. Whilst lazy it just saves time. I have loved and do love many people in different ways, (read CSLewis,) ...

I do not believe the soul goes on… Ordinary, small, events of chaotic… A butterfly here, a feather there,… Insignificant. That I think this way, does not m…

For Christmas this year, I shall paint my fat face! I can do that you know. A clown, A queen,

Now is the time to leave the past… With more days done than are left… Burdened grief like Sysyphus’ sto… Mind parades of all those gone. We owe it to them to give,

Christmas may be merry, Or then it may be not. It may be filled with loss and mis… People who’re not there and wishin… They were.

If I had fingers, I would find things. I would fumble, feeling through drawers of cards and notes. Fond felicitations of folk, friends from days gone by; five new pence; four candles;...

I can’t save you from your pain, I can’t save you from your pain. If I could, I would. But I can’t save you from your pa…

Like when my darling Matt threw back his head on the back seat of the car and at the top of his five year old voice triumphed, “and I wish you joy,” (oh what a tremolo), “and happiness,...

A boy on a beach, playing games? Playing dead. As the human race watches, At home, safe in its bed. And half the world mourns,

I’m living in the cellar of a dead… Duncan, my usual purveyor of all t… Told me, “his wife just called and… So, I rooted round a box of ports and…

What if I won’t be found? As the world turns white. As the winds turn cold. As a young gay man Turns grey and old.