P O E T R Y

I owned a harp and the harpist Was you my love. My fibre was weak and my backbone was given To sentimental reflection. The electorate...

They all arrived within a dream, and in that dream, they wore their faces. With acrid sleep scrunched in-between the teeth (alongside...

“No necromantic spell could recall for you your own lost youth or the fervent and guileless heart that loved Nylissa, or the ardent eyes...

On the sea shore, empty, shiny Where the breeze blows swift and briny Footprints pock the new-washed sand Straying into dawn-lit distance...