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Poems

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  • First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed

    I shall sit here, on this bench,

  • NOT ALL SKELETONS ARE MUSEUM QUALITY

    Under a sky as hazy-blue-polluted

  • What Almost Killed You

    Hello, my  name is a long drive home from the bar

  • Fragments of The Sacrificial World

    Porpoises feed every morning in the shallows

  • Poem with Ginger in it

    This rough hooked lump, this botched

  • One for André Breton

    Always for the first time

  • The Night Was Born

    This night was born in an old and dust-filled pantry, and yesterday’s – in the

  • “Bird or Old Man” translated from Bulgarian by Holly Karapetkova 

    He arrived with a bag full of fog.

  • Our Bodies Ourselves

    No one would sit by Vicky Syme

  • SUNDAYS | ALONE

    Mournful Sunday afternoons in winter,

  • Last Christmas

    Your best friend had brain cancer

  • A Canticle Rehearsal in The Temple and The Waters Do Not Return, Even to Meribà

    Oh, I am tired of my land,