Howling   When I close my eyes, all I hear is howling; howling like the winds   that throw themselves at the cliffs I jump when I want to remember what fear is;   or the winds that scream in the night to wake me   from the dreams I have about growing; growing up; … More Howling


I went walking in the desert for forty days after we broke up; forty days of talking of being tempted by the devil by my depression; trying to remember why I did any of this in the first place. I leapt from buildings to restore my faith in you or me or something; anything, really. … More Homecoming


for Joshua, my first brother; I said goodbye to my brother; late one night before a flight early the next morning. I met him in the carpark outside a jazz club we’d go to and pretend; Like everything was going to be okay. He was with a girl; his last night in a city he’d … More Wolverine


My mother was crying when I came home that night, and when I asked her why – she told me that it was because the wrong kind of man had become President of the United States. We’ve been here before, my family – watching Nazis give speeches about nationalism about sovereignty about; Patriotism. We were … More Inaugural


Paint-flecked floorboards creak beneath the siren songs of cheap whiskey and beers belonging to someone else. My hand runs down the crooked neck of a little dove hatched in escapism – You, a poet lost in time and place and memory of identity – We, watching as a mad poet manifests his art as a … More Bohemia


I wrote this one night after I’d read a poem to the Laundry Man. It felt more like I’d given a confession than a performance, and to thank him for the experience, I wrote this. Words spill out; a confession of dirty laundry to my poet-priest – Spinning yarns about the mythology of streets and … More Misfit