Into this temper of writers
called poets
I shove my own shoulders
Respectful of the undertaking
I chisel my words
and aim with care between lines
All this poetic lingering
to keep my little sentence
from dashing to the page naked
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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An unenlightened response to a bully
Wrinkle like a sun-dried prune
lose your place in the queue for the port-a-toilets at
music festivals
spend the night on a freezing cold station platform after
losing...
