poems

  We are the drowned, in our temples of stone Seeking refuge together from our dark little homes We are the drowned, all silent and cool Playing the by the fire, by the glass, by the rules We are the drowned, full of endless intent Planting our feet in distillers cement Forever facing our twisted … Continue reading »

there were four, maybe five of us (but, thinking back, it could have been a hundred) standing around by the bus stop catching death from the spray that reached out from under the wheels of passing cars and every time a bus drew up (which was seldom) no one got on, and even fewer ever … Continue reading »

    It drips, slowly Slowly from the lip of a frozen tap, A rhythm and a rhyme on the floor of the sink A metronome, endless The slow drip, the slow decline. Audible from the lounge, from the stairs The landing and the bedroom Sitting together, sharing a couch Easily fixed, but never faced … Continue reading »