Well, what tail DOES it have?

NaPoWriMo 11 ’13

The sea. I could hear it out of my window a lot. Swoosh swoosh noises are quite comforting really when you’re trying to sleep. Like traffic noises without the hooting and latent aggression. Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 10 ’13

I was staying near a beach. Lots of these poems are uninventively sea-related I think. Oh boy I hope you like the sea. You have a lot of THE SEA and landscape stuff to get through in these poems from my trip! Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 9 ’13

You catch your finger in a door
the snared skin, puckered,
moons and swells –

a round and bloodless eye
rises sightless to the surface
to sting: a small injury
a pinch, to mirror
the bigger pinch.

You reflect that some days
you feel like
your skin
is bunched up
like this, yelling.
Hand to your mouth
you suck the bruise blind.


that I’m still writing poems every day. The last three are about the sea, doors, and – something else, forgive me, I’ve forgotten what it is. They’re in my book. I will type them up. It’s just I’m abroad right now, and I’m too cheap to buy internet at the hotel. You’ll receive in bulk the poems dated 9th to 16th on the 17th. I’m still writing them! I’m not going to tell you where I am because I want to be mysterious. So there. 


NaPoWriMo 7 & 8 ’13

Yes yes yes, I’m late. But think of this: imagine someone picking flowers really ANGRILY. I went past a florists today, and thought about that. Hahaha. Made me make a poem. 


A woman picking flowers
snaps the stems with vehemence:
they’ll stew on the counter
dry mouthed with anger
till she puts them in the vase.

They stare as they wilt;
the petals brown
as if they’re frying.
Have a happy Valentine’s day


Thinking about some supernatural shit. Like whoa. (Reading ‘Witches of Eastwick’ at the moment. John Updike is a stone cold prose boss.) 


A succubus, an incubus

Has come in the rat hours
to rail the walls red,
climb into my throat
and make me talk
a different language:
pull the rolled up twenties
from my ears and laugh,
shake up all the bottles
on my liquor shelf,
stain the inside of my eyelids,
sing a backwards hymn,
witch me, kick my bedposts.
A succubus, an incubus
has come to be clung to,
hurtles in after curfew.

NaPoWriMo 6 ’13

Why doesn’t NASA employ me? Or whatever the British equivalent is. Whatever. I think I’d be great. I know that the sky is very beautiful and I am very confused by it and whatever is going on up there. This is essential human curiosity. (Not the fact that I’m undereducated in astronomy, no sir, it plays in my favour.) My job would be to look at the sky and feel very happy and more than a little astounded. I was watching the sun go down behind the National Gallery with my friend yesterday and it was lovely. The sun left a trail of sun when it went down. Lovely. I think humans aren’t to be trusted in space though because we are too silly and we’d litter everywhere and hurt feelings. Probably. As a species, you know? I am incoherent. I am very tired. I am energy drink propelled. Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 5 ’13

I wrote this on a bus, eating the best subway cookies in the world. Coming back from a night out in central London… EVENTFUL. Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 4 ’13

Hello hello! Posting in from London from lovely Hannah’s house! I wrote this poem today on the train. And that’s the end of my pre-poem waffle today. Deal.

PS I thought I’d clarify, this poem is a lie. I don’t really live on a train. I will get off the train one day. Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 3 ’13

A brief little one today. Earlier, I was on a bus listening to jangly acoustic music on my headphones and pretending I was in an indie film trailer. Then something jolted in my brain and I started thinking about the passing of time. I don’t know how this (rather inept) philosophy creeps up on me sometimes, like when I’m just dicking around on buses pretending there’s a voice over talking about how I am “ONE INTERESTING PERSON” but I was glad it did.

Read the rest of this entry »

NaPoWriMo 2 ’13

Feeling the same kind of sweet as werther’s originals today. Does that count as product placement? Here’s a poem called … ANCIENT HUSBAND. Just doodling around about octogenarian couples I’ve met. Being a bit facetious. A tad. A smidge. Affectionately. Read the rest of this entry »