in the dance


we are one

chained communication

not manacled, locked

in meditative mantra



submitting to a

deliquescing lexicon

how does my heartbeat replicate


this song? how do my limbs know

how to sing along?

fingers mimic intricate design

i am triangle, ribbonesque


wrapped within a miracle

of sun spots, ink blots, euphoric drops

and k...

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On Reflection


I’m not supposed to find this attractive.

It’s taboo.

We’re told only smooth will do,

pink and tight elastic

tied to remedies, sold over counters of despair.

You have to care about the bounce,

virtue by the fluid ounce.

We’re absolutely not allowed

to love the mirror’s twin.

Tucks, lifts, elevations

not this naked admiration; shameless.


I don’t know w...

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International Women's day

The Lie of the Ancient Mariner


Now I am immortalised, I get to see it

play across the ancient page forever.

Me the bad cess and black pariah.

He the one I ruined with my murder. 

Fickle world that turns a truth

over for a lie.


Beforetime, I would navigate magnetically.

Majestic spread tip to tip, southern winds would

never grip my heart in cold embrace.

I rarely had to stir to make my way...

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Token Valentine Poem


Roses are red


yellow, orange, white, blue, black and pink.

‘Romance’ stands outside of this.

Meaning colours petals

never meant to send a message;

nature couldn’t give a shit if Tim and Tania

fuck and call it love.

Hallmark really care (about their profit) though.


Roses grow in muck

and Aphrodite’s tears never watered them.

It’s just association.


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