A poem — Start with a place you’ve never heard of before. Some place far-away, say, San Augustin or Bellingen. So each graffiti sidewalk and squat shoppe; each purple zephyr-lily and smooth pebble sprawled along this leg of the river is a nano-miracle waiting to be recognised. Avoid the shiny lure of big…

A poem — November 11th 2022 The days we lived in your room beside Hemingway and my cheap guitar are out of reach to me now like a runaway balloon hanging a dimple on England’s sky like the curve of your famous river turning the corner outside St. Christopher’s like a long-distance call from a mountain in…

A poem — The truth is I love your face but only from one side. Don’t ask which I mean poking your painted toes at my fly from the bathtub because the truth is I’m a liar. I would marry your body tomorrow and what a lousy husband of life I would happily be. I love your laughter when I’m laughing and I love…

A poem — I didn’t need to go up to your apartment. I didn't need to climb five flights of stairs, to embrace the hallway’s old smell of cigarette ends the neighbour refused to throw out. I didn’t need to drink a coffee when I’d already drank three. I didn’t need to greet the kitten we bought for…

Poetry Prompt: the big Bukowski — If you want to be a writer, do it. If someone tells you otherwise, tell them go to hell. If your job feels like a dry entry, quit. If you married a dry biscuit, leave. If you dreamt of someone last night while cradling your genitals, call them. If you’re afraid, keep going until you…

Poetry — I. When the body begins its rot one hopes to see out the season with a ripe mind well-preserved, but what to do when the mind goes too? I am potato. I guess. II. I wish I had better news for you.. judging by the sound: The birds are still at war. China has…

Poetry Prompt: the master Cohen — “I never thought of myself as a poet, to tell you the truth. I always thought that poetry is the verdict that others give to a certain kind of writing. So to call yourself a poet is a kind of dangerous description. It’s for others; it’s for others to use.” — Interview with Leonard Cohen on PBS Newshour (2006) The names we invent won’t bruise beyond the mouth, see the proof stick to your wastebasket, so ejaculate mine quickly then scrub me from the shopping-mall of titles with the other dicks who have exaggerated over this bathroom wall. Let me be like dirt behind your ear forget me until we come clean.