Pinch and a punch and white rabbits to you on this, the first day of November. I'm stoked to share my poem 'Chemistry' with you which has was chosen for Cordite Poetry Review's 'Toil' issue. It's the second poem of mine that Cordite have ever so kindly published and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as … Continue reading Poem in Cordite Poetry Review
For M.E.B We became another death (the fulfilment of my internship). Like a false syncope, my grief would not let me claim you. You came to me with bleeding gums and a dent in your jaw, your broken gait like a barber cutting through walls of plasticine with blunt scissors. Bruised pride; your face a field of … Continue reading Happy Birthday, M
Last week was an incredibly exciting week. I launched my website with no fanfare which you can see here. I am so grateful to my friend Lynn from Lynn Priestley Design. She is a dear friend and an amazing artist, and without her help, as I perhaps said in an earlier post, my website would have looked … Continue reading Ronn Moss and the launch of my website!
Not seeing you, then colliding with you on that step had my heart banging like the hammers of hell. My eyes sought out the ground with a heart I put to bed so many years ago; silently waiting for the one who might never come. The ravages of being human spike and stiffen as autumn steals … Continue reading dedication #1
It is as though I have two heartbeats. This is how you make me feel. You give me fucking tachycardia, and then in a breath, my heart softens. I want you to lay with me; I want you to read to me. I want to read to you. Soak up Johnny Cash’s entire catalogue with … Continue reading lust: a follow up meditation
I'm a full-time healthcare provider. To myself. People assume that you're cured after transplant, and that you go on your merry way with your phenomenal donor lungs and you live forever and ever with just the odd complication, sail through life, find a partner, have a lovely courtship, get engaged, get married in between a … Continue reading Plan F
Winter hits, making sour mouths twitch. Baby bellows straight from the gut; her mother so corrupted by the sound, she peregrinates to the capsule. People photograph their food as though they will never taste it and eschew cutlery in favour of fingers. Schlep, compadres! Upside down crates colonise polished concrete - wooden tops pinched … Continue reading 25.7.13
Really swing and shake yo pretty thing ;)A sexy, hot August New York night kinda song to dance naked to. 'Harlem' by Bill Withers. Dare you to dance naked around your house to this ... no kit, lots of sweat and Mr. Withers. Oh yeah. It's impossible to not get up and shake to this.
There are far more certainties in the world than death and taxes. There is bad coffee, love, storms in the summer, things you cannot have, and then there's choosing the wrong people for ourselves. In 2008 - not long after I had fought so furiously for my life and survived an eight-hour surgery where I … Continue reading Trapped, or The first and last time I’ll ever write about this
Ferried by the wind, salt shoots up my nose. Blasts of air, not sparing in their rhythm crawl over my skin and I pain for water. Untrammelled waves crush any sand that lays crumbling on the beach. I see the man I was with last night - a half-smoked cigarette pendulous in his mouth like … Continue reading untitled haibun