What if what’s up there isn’t heaven? What if hell is not below? What if both are not places but presences — things that live in the spaces all around us, shifting their nature according to our thoughts? What if we know nothing about death or dying? What if we don’t go anywhere — we’re […]
Love is the catch in your chest Sometimes painful It’s the emotion that runs fingertips through your flesh And grips It’s nothing you can control I feel it when I think of this earth sometimes — People disappearing down the plughole of the internet Resurfacing “elsewhere” Uncaring for this aliveness Out here I try to […]
A poem about the artist returning to self after creating all day seen through the metaphor of the hawk.
A poem that asks how a writer can hold space for people to arrive at their discovery without explanation, honours presence and personal insight over the presumption to give advice, or explain anything.
A poem written beneath the sky and the pressure of being. A reflection on solitude, soul, and remembering who we are before the noise.
To rise before the sun, run before the day has begun. A poem that heeds the pull of instinct over materialism and, in doing so, aligns with integrity and finds freedom from everyday constraints.
Perhaps the part of me that has something to say About grass And the broad expanse of ink black sky Sprinkled with stars An orange moon Surprisingly wonky Reminds me to breathe That life is more than pressure And bustle And hustle That people should really be told What I yell sometimes in my heart […]
Who are you at 3am Sitting on the front step Staring into the darkness Lit by thousands of stars Perhaps a full moon (But not together They are sort of a one or the other Shine The stars fade when the moon is bright) Who are you then? At 3am As you sip coffee and […]
The concentration that is When I focus to submit Is utter freedom. To create from the two Is to be split into a thousand different opinions Judgement rises from self First And turns like Ouroboros To consume my own art Until there is nothing left But a hungry mouth That is never fed For art […]
Out of my head and the thoughts that ensnare Away from the “net” Away from the “gram” Fall into place where the leaves shiver and the soles of the feet take in the warmth of the uneven earth beneath Textures that please the fingertips Drink in the energy that floats gold dust in the air […]
