Bullets at the Ballet

A new autobiographiical series of poetry.


Going Down on Cherry

Choosing lust over love, or in spite of it. Sheer smut, but that's not the point. A poem about misappropriation (of language, art, emotion), if nothing else.

The Caliphate Motel (Part I)

A place I go to meet interesting souls and spend an evening or two with William Blake.

Valentino // Valentina

Valentino // Valentina We could be standing on the gallows As we wait for the last train Drunk as the barmaid is fed-up I say, "Maybe we should sleep...

A Darling Candy-Man

*Daddy, look, it’s such an extraordinary garden Where the ducks speak English And I feed them bread-rolls all afternoon And they say, “Thank you very...
Gold cherry

The Sledge

You rode a razor-bladed, wooden sledge through the snow And I, sitting on my mum's tea-tray, asked, "Won't you give us a go?" And you said, "No! Your...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

I'm the King of Portobello

Soy el Rey de Portobello A stylus carving on my chest, Once scarlet and bold, Now grey scar tissue which bleeds no more As unlively as the concrete...

A View of the Bridge

It came to be that a demise is where I start, Tear up the planks! Fogging the glasses of any coroner who dared get too close, I screamed, "Here! here...