Panic Panics

We kissed. You fell.

It was just a navy puddle, swaying on an autumn afternoon.

You stepped into my mind.

A bell trap of bored ghosts.

A kitchen of melting pans.

A temple of chaos.


Blood rush took you further away and around.

Swooping down like a thirsty silver bird, the rain came and broke the mirror scattering liquid you left me for the golden trees over there.

I couldn’t quite see you…

I cannot even catch the scent.

Exhausted, I sleep in circles.


Poem from perspective of panic personified.

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Love Songs (To Fear)

Come get in the ring.

I’ve made you tea and brought your favourite chair. Talk to me. Tell me all about it.

Under the moon, we will dance to the rhythm of the distant flowers of the sea.

Your mouth a wondrous cave I wander through, humming.

Life swims in your pockets,

And in the middle of your voice is a grand spoon of ice cream, big as a room.

One lick sends the stars spinning.

I want it again.

The taste of you.

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Like a cold, deep fog,

I wandered

into a field of low volume static, bearing the ritual sacrifice of the day.

A jumper, sequinned with ice, embroidered with stones, and tired river clay.

To my surprise, the ground began to move. It shook like a leaf on a body of wind, and I shivered, fearing falling, into the void, not only having no place to safely land, but losing my jumper and the tray it was on.

A baking tray from the local shop costs _________.

The surface broke as shadowy signals unfurled like flags into the intently watching sky.

The edges linked, and became a wide, screeching tower of wind, around which I gingerly walked.

Bitter voices tore at my ears,

Dreary lines engulfed my fluttering envelopes.

We laughed as my bravery slumped into the recesses of the painting like light fleeing from the shadows.

In the storm cloud, I grew. Just a tiny flame feeding on pieces of sky.

Forgotten by summer.

Time raised me as an old child, quietly making me a coat for the snow and rains.

You can’t see it.

It’s part of my skin.

Moves in my breath.

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We thought we had arrived in Spring,

and yet, around the corner

a dragon sprang, hurled around our skulls,

blew ice to make skins rattle,

and fluff in pockets huddle close

and quiver……………….. then,

silver fingers crawl from the sky,

gallop over the bold torrents of green

with the shy yellow tips.

“Blast you with misery..

Drench you with a little hope.

Move those bones.”

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Hello Insouciance

Hello Insouciance…

If I could capture you

How I would float – –

My mouth smoothly shape your effortless smile,

And I would hold freedom in my hands!

The pleasure of sun on skin,

A wanton twist of breeze…

[reach out – thunderclap sound]

***** FEATHERS SPILL *****

My lovely illusion strides away..

Wide leaps on water.


It’s a poem about desires and illusions.

There is a sense of irony in the way that it’s written like a message, and personifying insouciance. One might think that a person leads a charmed life, but one may have very little idea of how life is for that person.

I convey the experience with a sense of affection which is not entirely ironic.

An affectionate and curious rather than bitter or toxic longing.

At the end, I imagined insouciance “walking” away with long strides, but the final line is about light and water, which connects to the idea of the fleeting nature of mortality, all desires and also, ironically, the cyclical nature of light returning on water each day under the sun/moon.

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A song in the night

Patience. It’s my only weapon now.

You saw a beautiful city and, lacking the courage to even imagine the possibility that that beauty could be a part of you, you sought to destroy it.

Now only ghosts remain.

We are the ghosts and you cannot kill us.

Brick by brick, the walls and formational structures were stolen from us.

But you see, the further the pieces fly, the more we grow. We will make a song in the night. Our city is expanding.

We know who we are.

We know what happened.

We remember and we will not be silenced.

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Six Riddles


“This is not what I wanted. At all. And you didn’t bring me enough of it either.”



A look, like a gleam of longing in ink pools.

An upturned frown with an imaginary spot to hang your coat.



“GIVE ME MORE TO EAT!!! I am always hungry.

Except when I’m SUPER RAVENOUS EXTRA EXTRA hungry.

Or when I’m having off days, weeks, months.”


“Well, we should have known. Look at all this! – – No one can see! – – No one cares.”

Look inside! The bright window a greasy gloom of disappointed years.

The water of fortune makes me a mountain in the summer rain. Each morning.

Hidden, glowing. My beauty, a truth to erupt.


Doctor, waiter, mourner, groom..

if not a screen for blood, tears or wine,

then sweat and creasing in miles of tests,

papers, glass, beeps, bells, flowers,

blank cheque of dignity for…?


“I fear – – I fear, that I cannot… what’s that word.. love anybody..

Standing alone on the edge of this winter city, wrapped in warm indifference.

My words, black stones, stumbled around the edge of a frozen effort, like a trail of sunken tourists looking for a travelling beauty spot.

Before me, the sky flew, disco gold, suave grey, wide eyed blue and flirtatious peach.

Without even so much as a nudge from me, my hat tips to the foreboding of gentle spring blossom on a bare branch.

For the first time I can feel – my body – as it starts to fall – slowly – slowly – into the earth.”


Written in January, 2018.


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