Why sing of love at this hour? When the big hand is at 4 All I desire is my nightly rest I’ve worked and walked all day Yet you stroll in early in the morn’ To sing of your painful suffering She doesn’t care for…

I grow old … I grow old … Over the years I have grown bold I have sought out new adventures Tried many different sorts of food. I have traveled many places Whatever suits my mood. In my youth I was very quiet My tears…

Do not throw Elliot at me, you babylonian slouch gaze upon my work, ye Nightingale and despair with hours to go before I sleep I have seen the greatest minds of my generation destroyed by such a hollow man as I sing the body bandersnatch…

The art of losing isn’t hard to master – Elizabeth Bishop When you told me the lines I drew in my skin were art intricate patterns of pain you saw as love, and the blood that I was losing as sweet elixir, I knew this…

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; A subdued lunatic Following the bloody riddles Of his father Stagnant in grief; How rigid, yet emotional How brutal, yet loving An impossible man, For one so tortured Is destined to tear himself apart

 Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot  Do I dare to eat a peach? Or nectarine of yellow and sweet? Do I dare to strike the clouds? Demand an answer from them aloud? Am I a fool who cannot eager be And thus begins…

Dear Writer:   I will call again to you, no matter what you say. I will call again to you to lay down here and play. And rest your head. And close your eyes. And let those silly poems synthesize. That’s right. Zzzz. Zzzz are…

Indeed, I read the poetry The lengthy carcass of sprawling words My eyes adjust to only reread the same lines over and again. This assignment, this wayward task Has me running in circles searching for a short glass on the rocks, these eyes already read…

Reflections on an experiment in self love  my mixed blood waters down my colour but not the weeping of our people when my head turns to face the land no longer ours – which feels the same as when he looks at me through blurry…

We dove through the depths when everything else seemed lost. Even when you feel lost to the stars, existentialism never gives up on you. I stare the reaper in the face and feel his own insecurities firing back at me. He’s powerless to break me…