Sun rouses me, calls me to the windowwhere she stains low-hanging clouds like teasteeping in boiled water.I feel fat with love today after waking from a uncanny dreamwhere streets lined with radiator brush treesled me, Panglossian to have been seduced on a Friday,to you. While sun leaps softly out of the tree topsand plays an … Continue reading Cathexis
“Black Jaguar” by Shanaaz Suliman on ArtStation, digitally altered by the author. Aramis with his constellation coat blinks at me from between the green fronds. I first met him near the Quai Saint-Bernard. That is to say, I met him in the pages of a poetry collection. The theme of the collection was animals. The … Continue reading Yoo-hoo! Look over here.
This is the start of a new series of poems called After. These poems are inspired by, and go into conversation with, some of my favourite poems. I kept the poem titles of the originals (after checking copyright rules of course). I've already posted a couple of these on Instagram, and I'll post those here … Continue reading After: As Hopper might paint now
The first time my poem "Please pay at the reception desk on your way out" was published was in the late autumn of 2020. It was accepted by Blanket Sea, a small indie publication dedicated to poetry about chronic illness. I received the honour of having my poem nominated for the Best of the Net … Continue reading Please pay at the reception desk on your way out @ Kaleidoscope
And the old clock in the kitchen stands still now.Always quarter to seven.The warm knitted stitches in autumn days forming, one by one,a warm colourful scarf.For friends, for herself, knitted in is the quiet, lost timein this house. Quiet hours, gone and forgotten.Like tassels of her imagination, the same.Each carefully knitted stitch is a meditation, … Continue reading Poetry in translation: Anais knits time
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash Antonio Machado's poem "I never sought the glory" is an almost Taoist contemplation of the ephemerality of fame. In this poem he states that he's never sought it out, he doesn't want it, which is a strange claim to make for a poet, isn't it?When poets write, isn't it … Continue reading I never sought the glory: On seeking fame