February 2, 2026
Poems
a lot of it was good
February 1, 2026
it’s all bullshit
the last time is
they stroke our hands and kiss our heels.
On the hills I walk up
December 3, 2025
it was an off-day.
August 4, 2025
You think leaving lights on before you sleep is easy
July 8, 2025
But you don’t fight, she said,
June 21, 2025
I realise I never feared dying.
June 7, 2025
The A303 is my favourite road.
June 1, 2025
They beat me, left slumped a pile of thigh capitals
there is nothing
I’m a man, maybe that’s why
I woke up, the world was lightly lent.
Stayed up writing, shot himself
Malignant New Jersey.
May 26, 2025
there’s a stain
The new day was ushered in like a keg of flies.
September 14, 2024
Lydia’s parents had made that decision together and Ben found himself wondering
My dad untied the oldest looking boat on the shore from a stand of hawthorn trees.
July 9, 2024
These words are about being alive
November 14, 2023
The moon is made of salt, durex, dimes, and buckets of glue.
May 20, 2023
The moon was damp and hanging in the distance. The silhouette collection of mountains perched like jigsaw edges beneath the evening sky glued together by scarlet orange, by doubtful maroon, looked upon everything as eye-wateringly sung…
