In an article I once read titled ‘Doty, Deleuze, and "Distance": The Stevens Intertext’ David Jarraway compares how Mark Doty (1953 –...

Scrub me down to the bone Nothing but splinters Nothing but fragments Of the girl scared to think scared to dream The battlements in her...

Back in 2020 I published this article on what it is like to live with a disabled brother. It is strange reading it again three years...

Nestled here in the nape of your neck, I gulp your escaping scent: Bruised cranberry, crushed cherry, bonfire, sweat. To stay here, to...

Language is a holder and art, a harness. I transmogrify the heaviness of my longing into the lightness of craft, suspending the essence...

To leave something untouched, unspoken. Is this judgement driven by a fear, a logic- calculation? No action (or rather, inaction) seems...

It's a sort of sickness no one can see. Invisible to the naked eye. Take your bloods, check your temperature, shine a torch down your...

So, this was it, the great undoing, the tugging of the threads that had been so finely sewn. All this patchwork beingness, all this...

The only way to describe A mother not for you Is a cosmological headfuck A field of sunflowers, Immeasurable differences. As is nature,...

“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.” – Rilke. When I recently went through a break up...

A lone tree stood under the evil eye of a blood hot sun. Blue eyed, blue skinned fruit djinns danced And in the heat Red fruit bruised....

I claw the mind, gash the mind, thrash it, thaw it out, crash it, demoralise it theorise til I lose it, booze and then cruise it; drug...

You are reading my breath. It smells filthy like last night’s mistake, tastes rotten like a black rat has died inside of it. To have...

Wilting forget-me-nots by the window Droop their dying petals, As they mourn lost hours, lost years, in their empty tears of languid...