spilled ink
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Crepitus
A poem from my time working as a paramedic- I’m not supposed to know the word crepitus, Let alone the sound, Or the grating feeling of it in my hands. Continue reading
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Back to Basics
With ears that listen, To sounds that are more than just funny vibrations in the air. Raindrops pattering cascading through leaves. Continue reading
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The Word Just
I just hate the word “just” That I just so stubbornly say To just belittle my words Just before I send them away Continue reading
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Mayday Mayday Mayday
Modern-day knight in iridescent Kevlar, riding on a red horse, veiled and obscured. If the fires don’t kill him, then the cancer will. Continue reading
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The Grass is Always Redder
A poem about my commitment issues “I’m a man panning for gold in the river. Sifting through dirt and pebbles And fool’s gold So much fool’s gold.” Continue reading
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Breadcrumb Trail Through Time
I’m convinced she is magical. You can tell it just by looking at her. Like it’s some kind of “aura”, or “energy”, emitting from her. She’s the most stereotypically “witch-like” person you’ll ever meet, and if you don’t know what I mean by “witch-like”, you will having seen her. It’s uncanny, and blatantly obvious, just… Continue reading
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The Constellations Between Your Freckles
I hope I get the time, To name the constellations I draw between your freckles. Continue reading
Hole In The Hedgerow 