00:18 – moving through the self from a few hours ago

double zeroes by the smiling eyes and my brother’s age.

that’s the time

and i’m tired

and by the time i’ve typed this

it’s another time – i’ve changed.

some beads on my string have fallen off and some have been added and i record the dropping and the stacking of glass,

it’s past midnight.

and the light is much too bright in the bedroom and the capital letters are unappealing in my lazy hands and my thoughts are wooden, plasterboard, disjointed – bless,

sleep a soothing interruption to being so heavily awake.



Plane Jane

rising green

plane perfection

no hills

magic rugged lawn cloth

moping on the no-slope

wilding on the no-moor

Jane on the heathered ground bewildered by mother’s harshness

the flat lands unsheltered and the weather comes straight down like a hurried lift

without any introduction or dialogue



balderdash scraped away

hiding underneath is red and squishy

sandpaper lover

rolling in the fibres

hiding underneath, wiped out

fingermarks through the sawdust

and i see your eyes beneath

and i hold you and we sleep


plucked griffin flesh lines the inside of my mouth

black tongue lolls around in there

tight ligaments in my feet from standing up here

drop, let the wind fill my wings and lungs and rise phoenix high

my shadow is the sun now


on the bog

i’m forever blowing boggarts

i blow them from the boggart tree where they grow wild and they fall in amongst the humans in places they call damp and deserted

where mushrooms grow in clustered clouds and shapes appear behind your eyelids and slink away before the opening