by phoenix | May 7, 2014 | Poetry
A small slice of Europe. Cafe Lorca Makes me crave huevos de gamba and strong black coffee Il Papiro whispering to me of Firenze and the old bridge across the Arno looking up towards Ponte alle Grazie Bookshops that laugh at me because I’m not in the Marais and...
by phoenix | Sep 23, 2013 | Poetry
A child gashes their foot on a sharp screw, unattended. Her mother complacent, absent. A man misinterprets a word here and next thing you know, furniture raised overhead, glass tinkles as it’s smashed, drawers flung across a room leave gaping wounds in a chest...
by phoenix | Sep 18, 2013 | Poetry
And it turns out that’s unforgivable Because I’m now writing lines to you in my head Lying in the dark in my bed It doesn’t matter that I sent you other words Surreptitious in the social stream Oscar Wilde’s hand soft on Walt Whitman’s...
by phoenix | Jun 24, 2013 | Poetry
I am writing lost love letters to ampersands, my favourite — with its curlicues in arcane typefaces, it peeks out at me from designer invitations & grungy restaurant names & I play seek. I invent reasons to unfurl my ampersands & sneak our way into...
by phoenix | Aug 30, 2011 | Poetry
For Brian Widdows, Jaime’s daughter Kaya and Ceredwyn and Keith’s cousin There is an infinite sadness in certain acts that cannot be escaped and tonight I grapple with the trifecta: A murder, a suicide, the death of a baby moments before it entered the...
