It’s Pissing Down On Rockall
Since I made the decision to take some time out from my PhD, I’ve not really felt much like writing. I’ve read a lot, but the stress of my recent … Continue reading
Oh Hey!
Look! Submerged my poetic polemic about post-brexit Britain is back from the printers! Angsty, angry and bleak, it’s a bricolage stream-of-conscious outpouring for the disenfranchised European that fuses, original poetry, … Continue reading
Féach Thiar (Fastnet)
Steam driven exiles, ragged, beaten by absentee english, leave a tear far behind them – its paraffin eye scanning stony atlantic tar ar ais tar ar ais It calls, … Continue reading
Vikingr
I took part in a conference at The University of Portsmouth called “Mapping – Uncharted Territory.” My video piece contained three of the poems from my Shipping Forecast project – … Continue reading
England Underground
Like any other day, the sun rose not caring that the earth would steal its light, holding onto it like like a frenzied mother smothering her child. Not caring … Continue reading
On Visiting Alderley Edge in the Hope of Finding a Wizhard
I wanted to follow in their footsteps – inhaling the clean filth of leaf mould. Terror and adrenalin giving scent to the enemy; to be “relentlessly pursued by outlandish creatures.” … Continue reading
Silver Lining (Obligatory Covid 19 Poem)
Listen. The directionless monoxide retch of engines – quarrelling in sick arteries has quieted. Listen as animals call from traffic islands, twitchels and premium wasteland – unsure of … Continue reading
Pulsar
This poem is inspired by a visit to Jodrell Bank Observatory and specifically a sound file of pulsars ‘singing’ on this page. I’m sort of tallying singing pulsars with Dr John … Continue reading
James VI vs The Metatron
The tiny island of Inchkeith, near Burntisland, off the east coast of Scotland is home to a story where King James VI exiled a woman with her two infant sons … Continue reading
Bridge
Fat land, moss wadded, pushes against my feet, carrying me to the bridge; held in the scent of warm brine and red fescue. Swaddled by wind fingers, I … Continue reading
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