by phoenix | Aug 29, 2017 | Poetry
Their shelves have always held mystery. Resist the urge to touch — cloth and paper and paint. I am close enough to breathe in Catullus and all his earthly urges, now sealed and almost erudite; So many spines here, leather and lust, dirt and distress. From Alexandria...
by phoenix | Jul 19, 2017 | Poetry, Political
I stand, arms outstretched as everything i know whirls around me Smashed into driftwood and debris by the tornado of circumstance They say justice is blind but I can’t help feel she’s blindfolded right now, Held to ransom as random injustice rains down on us —...
by phoenix | May 31, 2017 | Story
We may not win the battle, she says. And while there’s always fear, somewhere down in the heart-sore depths of watching our children grow, there’s always fear that things can change in an eyeblink, that the wing-free lightness of the trilling dancers of a...
by phoenix | Apr 16, 2017 | Poetry
Inspired by a Tumblr post I now can’t find… if you recognise the story, please contact me! There’s something about scarlet cushions and 1940s jazz, Dark bars and tiny crystal goblets filled with cloying golden wine And a promise of desire that draws me...
by phoenix | Mar 1, 2017 | Poetry
These are moments that you treasure, just sitting of a sunset, Shoulder to shoulder as you reminisce. And whether it’s Those memories of women’s decisions, the baby borne or the Journey halted, the intimacies and the violations, or whether It’s gasping hysterics...
