(a literary homage to ‘december’ by zoe boekbinder) in january so young i was not a year ago dark nights because you were so far in deserts cold while in sun-strewn rooms i felt so old february then brought you back hearts flew high as they shed their black march my life was hard and … Continue reading january


i do not forget only pouring coffee liqueurinto small crystal glasses prisms and light-play deep & aqueous strange elixir held high catching sun and the dim glow from overhead lamps Continue reading actions


pink is the colour of bare, fresh skin not yet ready to be touched by the airs and the graces of the world it is the colour of strange hair bleached and stained in a fit of madness again and again until it defines the unloved pink is the colour of love and of hope … Continue reading raw

stolen from us

when minds have changed filtered through years and whispered words grown to believe in goodness in the dark grown to believe in letting go and moving on and leaving the lost behind sitting on a bed in a room in a faraway place where the people who once were there have been stolen away and … Continue reading stolen from us