poems

bone stories

oh, i could tell it so many ways. Read more

a head start on death

i breathed
with him barely
sipping the pale air Read more

geese

once more with feeling:

[bellowing] you do not have to be good Read more

the sea-wives

«mother doesn’t give a shit.» Read more

the dance

one day the woman awoke
feeling strange. Read more

At last

we are drunk for the first time
in the foothills
of cadair idris
fresh out of school where for five years they called us lemons
and dykes. Read more

baba yaga’s hut

they come to me for the stupidest things.
/ Read more

my house will have no sign

you will not find it by name or number. Read more

Untitled (Mother)

sea, ever changing, ever constant.
what do you know about mother?

you cannot know mother. Read more

You are the tiny person, the cupped hand, and every moon

Linoprint and birthday poem for Em Read more