The writer. The philanthropist. The liar.
At the dog park that’s not quite a dog park but a fence in the shape of a big cursive U, absolutely nothing keeping the doggies in but their willing to be good and their owners’ pleadings. Partly remembered, mostly forgotten memory of a TV show where the kids had special powers but could activate … Read moreLiberty #10 — Buffy’s Park
Old friend, mine is the last word. definitive monster, definitional Howling wolf down street, worry and map lines. Bad guy as good guy as bad guy as good guy Therapist last in line saying to phone police; that too-used “traumatised” dangling – my colicky baby, sick and ugly inside none of us will be seeing … Read moreLiberty #9 – Ex
Winter last year, we started praying together. My friend’s dad gravely ill, and I took the torch of this and–alone–let it go out. Thought I’d run streets with it, olympiads, craddling circles around him, cushioning him from the blow, begging god, but I let it go out. Thought if we did it together it would … Read moreLiberty #8 – Wimple
diamond stamped foalhiding behind its motherand the two hiding in turn behind rings of barbed wire fencesovergrown verge keeping us as not-quite-friends the sky is lobbing these biggobs of goatlightlike the ones undivided in old paintings of birthright and destinythe knoll behind our vignette prophetic and pathetic too for its loss,how the valley used to … Read moreLiberty #7 – nature doesn’t have a scratch on us
the stars are alivethe stars are peoplethey’re grannies and grandas and everyone whose blood was spilt forrighteous causes, and, babies that died in the womb who didn’t deserve itthe neighbour I was always told died by a drive-by shooting butreally it was cancer – the stories we’re told ones not of slow rot but blinking … Read moreLiberty #6 – Seeing the Stars
Last night on the roof there were these big blue strobes of light illuminating all the buildings around us in annoying bursts. The Freedom Tower was mouthing its little blue and yellow Ukraine display. Placid and futile, constant and distant, that milky little hum wasn’t the source. You asked if it was heat lightning and … Read moreLiberty #5 – Manhattan
“I love being covered in your spit” he urges, as my tongue runs again from neck to chin to face in thick, hungry laps. Ours are tongues of trade for the other: heavy, shared things in pursuit of body capital. A helpless foal, ululating under the might of my crested mouth; not mawkish but on … Read moreLiberty #4 – lingua franca
the Day’s asks are winsome and doable thingsflits and beauties, basic administrationspeeling the blinds back the whole waya cigarette out the window, ducksong, shellacking is out of vogueI have healed myself from Big Things:today the wrack is not for me! aestival child, occupied solely with its glamoursGallivanter of the great chide – submit to goodness … Read moreLiberty #3 – a good mood
The limits to the dolls’ allowance to want are thick and broody: you may be fucked, but you will not be meeting any parents. Having been well raised, he will graciously order you an Uber home but he will not follow the outline of You as you wind yourself there, not transfigure himself as protective crow, … Read moreLiberty #2 – a note for the dolls
I have brought myself to the park in a hissing steam of rejection and dejection, from within and without. I am not self pitying but I have recently taken to waxing my minor agonies until they are ablaze with a horrible reflective sheen. This is a cruelty: to force people to see only themselves when … Read moreLiberty #1 – the Saltire