by daylight, these weightless anchors
tether balloon thoughts to
piers of pages

by moonlight, these lead-bearing wings
strain against the gravity of
desert dreams

always I am the perforated
sack of wine, left bled by
these drunkards of words,
with a blistered cactus tongue

(yet even cacti wear flowers in the wild)


some poems about stars

I’ve been writing lots of poems about stars (partly because I’m taking an Archaeoastronomy course on Coursera, giving me ample excuses to love stars even more) so I’ve collected them all here for your perusal.  🙂

shooting star

how many stars fall while we sleep?
how many wishes go unwished?

fall with me
through stardrops into the
dewy sky of our obsidian wandering

let me write your name
in the constellations of
our ignited comet skin

aurora borealis

door broken down,
windows unlocked;

there stands
the topaz galaxy you’d hidden away within.

//you are the starsystem I wander in//

stars that never die

you were my imperishable star
the one that lit my path home

till you dipped below the horizon
not to surface again for the next

thousand years of leaving
me with unbrilliant bodies

to fumble my way forward
in the dark

-I’m going forward but never home-

afraid of the dark

I have always found it difficult
to fear the dark
because that is when
the stars come out.


I am condemned to love
her from afar

paying only short trips,
acute doses of visits

though I am ready
to rip out the safety tether

and float towards
her star forever.

fingertips a-shiver,
how can I write this starlight
pulsing through my veins?

falling comet

piercing the sky
I crawl my way back to
the earth, digging a
crater for a bed in this,
my corner of
the night.

//only hellfire can warm me
only hell can save me//

#poem for fear

my darling
do not be afraid of the dark

close your eyes
and I’ll kiss them; kiss away

the monsters they could
not see in our hearts. //

my darling
do not be afraid of silence

give me your breaths
and I’ll turn them into music

only we can hear.



she came from love
wearing belt welts and liquor;

he came from love
that bought absences with gifts.

not all loves leave the same scars

she ran at hate
with a razor blade pillow

he ran at hate
with a gun and syringe

not all hates burn the same.

but they – they surrender to love
a home to hold
in the engulfing emptiness
that fills their open arms.

not all loves are islands of peace.

not all hates unlock their jaws. 


[this was created in response to the prompt ‘looking forwards and not backwards’]

If time is a circle
//not a line// 
then surely,
one day
my eyes will meet
your smile again.

#haiku collection

A few I have written recently (to my shame, I don’t know what the plural of ‘haiku’ is).


mouth frames a silent
shape into the ultimate
defeat of language.


gulping down bottles
brimming with you yet I still
have deserts for lips.

eyes closed

when eyes shut, you paint
my world in hues of jade smiles
and cherry laughter.


she wanders round rooms,
fingers flicking morse code lights;
no doorways darkened.


I excavate words,
the archaeology of
ancient souls laid bare


you: an open wound
cauterised daily with lime
and tequila tears.


forests splayed, spreadeagled
across our cold concrete walls

birds hum lullabies
in the notes of our songs

water washes away
the grinding weariness of gravity.

in truth, every day
we are returning
to the earth
before the grave.