I have half an hour to waste and I need to piss. I stand alone at the urinal expecting the door to swing open - it doesn’t. I have twenty-five...
Category - Poetry
What is this thing called love that tangles our hair, untidies our thoughts, stains our hands and lips and fills our journals with incoherent...
The other day I went fell-walking with friends. The background air was warm but a desperately cold wind whistled over the hills. Contrasting layers...
What’s the use of a friend who doesn’t listen when you call for help, when you cry in anguish because your breath is spent? What’s the use of a...
Today I wrote a poem about love. Maybe I did so because I was listening to seventies songs beforehand. The seventies was a decade a bit obsessed by...
I sat writing this poem this afternoon while listening to the music by Shigeru Umebayashi. I think I may have played Yemeji’s Theme and Efude...
