The memory and the dream are one and the samea phantom limb that I would break my own dear heartto have back, restored to me It’s as if I can see my own sight fadingwhile the quotidian seeps, heavyinto the fibres of my beingI am overwhelmed by the here and now, wishinginstead to be whisked away to there, to then Four years beached on my … Continue reading Defining horizons
I watch the weather where I was
and where I want to be;
too cold for summer, too hot for winter,
too comfortable to be close to anywhere … Continue reading Mediterranean (from Tarifa to you)
Embers eternal but we’re a ways from raging with the fire Roll another one and take me back to other alleys, streets more lit other lives more lived, more alive when I soaked myself in rum-laced coke with lime, for you a line and we laughed oh the laughter it was intoxicating, wicked so fleeting yet so divine For the post-sober night prolongs your smile … Continue reading Embers eternal
Paradise, he declares while I proceed to speak of chains. I am Con-Tiki in reverse, a raft that’s weathered wind and wave. But I’ve tethered me to this here shore, I’m jealous of the roaming tide; these feet that wander rarely now, this heart traversing cloud. Freedom, his desire’s for while forty-five million slaves cry out. Deaf to their lament, their groans, blind to his own … Continue reading Paradise
I. It’s been one of those nights when sleep escapes and in its wake these words that race, stampeding through your mind; longing to be verse, yearning for release they cry out ink me, ink me onto parchment. Metabolise the pain, sweet heart. After all, it’s like any other bitter thing – the bile, the aftertaste, it will linger, but it will fade. Swallow, stay … Continue reading Aperture/Closure
This post was originally titled “Poems about boys”. Then I thought that was too racy and also inaccurate. So I changed it.
There are two poems, both inspired by – but not actually about – boys. But this is poetry, after all, so who am I to tell you what my poems are “actually” about?
If you’re still interested in my attempts at creative writing, please read on … Continue reading Blisters, sparks / Unexpected sentimentality
I once went on a date where I was asked to read some poetry aloud. It was one of the most awkward things I’ve ever had to do.
Reading out somebody else’s poetry was intimate in all the wrong ways.
Continue reading First date poetry and other awkwardness
Lately I’ve been spending time alone on the train, with the trains inside this mind where I am surrounded by a symphony of synth senses full, spirit high glass in one hand, heart in the other screaming into the void and it can’t resist me one with the universe just a drop in this ocean but I am invincible. Music dries up to a foggy morning dawned … Continue reading Trains, Platform 29
In the days before I converted to Mac, defragging my PC was a standard part of my life. I would order things in neat folders and subfolders, name files consistently and accurately then conscientiously delete them when they were superseded by newer versions. Alas, my PC would still take its sweet, sweet time with even basic tasks. It would limp along on the best of days and … Continue reading Defrag this
The opposite of vertigo
Is your wings poised for flight
and your feet stuck in cement;
Is the skyward pull that makes
you ill to be on the ground.
Gravity versus your dreams.
The opposite of vertigo
Is conversations about the weather
and getting angry at traffic;
Is display windows taunting you
with things that won’t make you happy.
You can see right through them.
From the pit of your stomach
to the tip of your tongue
the air here’s thick,
swallows up inspiration.
The opposite of vertigo
Is the sickening sensation of settling;
Is being shackled when you should be airborne.
The opposite of vertigo
Is the curse of those who come down from altitude;
Is the Icarus in you and me. Continue reading The opposite of vertigo
⎯suansita⎯ 