Rome, NY

At night, the grumbling of frogs and toads and locustsSomething howls in the distance, variegating tones but never closer: tied or bound, probably, and pissed offAll stars blanket and planes arch across this needlework, making quiet fissures – something potent tamed in service of holidays to wherever Albany Airport even flies to – Not a … Read moreRome, NY


Every day I am born anew with loveas all turns to sinewMy brothers, broken back into soup I want to live and I will not turn away from itEyes must be prised open with matchsticks,twisting to all the things that we do I will not forgive myself.Look as they’re pestled to sweetGlitters, returned to supernovae … Read moreSoup


she flirts with the crystal ball that is her now antagonising hands to fondle her coldness, smooth her hair to glass with human fingers Ships in bottles, auroras, galaxied into air bubbles Frankenstein’s monster rebuilding itself with a Protestant stoicism Return the hymn sheets to the printer, hum our fizzing tune of physics and excoriations

Sound Bath

There’s a bit towards the end of the sound bath where the ruckus quietens and distils into something smaller and more potent than all its parts: like the image of bunnies bouncing in loops around verdant slopes, like the sound of the feeling of a pea aubergine bursting against the weight of your teeth. It … Read moreSound Bath