Midnight

    I have always been interested in exploring how external circumstances inform and influence individual identity. Who would we be and how would we behave if our circumstances were different? What impact does our particular  culture, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, childhood experiences and social class have on us? Experiments such as the Stanford Prison Experiment … More Midnight

A Deeper Truth

Perhaps the truth of you is deeper even than rage or tears or fear or any one instinct.  Perhaps, it’s dignity and duty. Things abandoned  as unauthentic or proud but the parts that made a place for light to shine when all went dark.              

Dispensation

    The days that spend you subdue you like evening light, worn out hours surrendered, poured, yearnings yielded, visions bare as barren winter branches where solemn birds alight to pick clean last colour from brittle bone.   Then suddenly, from nowhere and everywhere a flush of sunlight shakes the boughs awake. rifling rays fray … More Dispensation

Heron

  Your wings arch and rise. Beneath such tides the world is silenced.   Observant, the clouds roll back a parchment scribed with prophesy I can’t translate.   Your eye, dart sharp, immaculate, clear as a lake reflecting granite sky. Your dull plumage brims with a universe of stars.   From marble plinth, brink you … More Heron

A Mother

  I carry the restless, unfulfilled desire and the overflowing cup in one hand, a child in the other. I carry the abandonment to sleep, the heaving chest, the heavy eyes, the weight of dreams, on my back.   Blossoms bloom from sepal shaped shackles that still flowing streams. My leaves fall awake in cold … More A Mother

trade

I am breached by the tide by the herd stampede of morning streets the quick dry kiss goodbye   I am breached by thin streams and puddle deep shallows that drown me but keep me treading water   my feet steep hallows and lanes and exchange oily notes on a fixed game   I am … More trade

Mother

I visit you with your favourites a fresh cream slice and Hyacinths on a bright Sunday afternoon and you look up from deal or no deal on the telly to greet the lively,  pink bloom I hope it might remind you of the old garden beds you dug over one long gone June. Your eyes … More Mother