Altered

A poem about dissociation

This Train Of Thought

I take the first train from the way station,  shrouded by grey fog and dream.

Spun

Some days, I drown
in my sorrows, as you did, 
without asking;

Silhouettes

As we raced against
the unwinding hands,
I espied, in the winter’s light,
your private grief — released
in the briefest of droplets…

A Drive With Clymene, For Phaeton

A poetic re-imagining of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

I Remember Everything

It has to mean something

We Made It

Our relationship was a truth unsupervised
and rather screwed
(if I may be so plain),

Oracle

I see us below.

We were
sheepshank-tied with coloured ribbons,
fingers unable to untangle 
the burdened sun…

Victory Comes

Coffee poured, new light paling.
Dress for work in your new black shirt.
Say to yourself behind your teeth,
“victory comes while
the…

The Waiting Undertow

I am the luck of the ocean. 
I am the drowned under the sea.