As (or in spite of being) a full-time student of classical languages, I find words to be of inestimable beauty. Poetry is both a means and an end for me, and I hope that my own small attempts at creating some will be enjoyed by others.
All around me is horizon now, / This bleak landscape made desolate with an awareness of itself / Where pools of dark water have gathered in…
His naked arms flap feebly in the void / And Icarus discovers that, aloft, / He bears no more resemblance to a bird / Than, to a worm, he b…
Narcissus in the Copse
I owe death a life that I will not pay, / Though every moment brings me closer to my grave. / This is borrowed time, this drawn out day-to-…
Time, like a grinning gunman, / Relentlessly pursues this city / Fierce as knives, with its jagged history / Lonely even in its shock of pe…
Old Mother Hubbard
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard / To fetch her poor doggie a bone / And consider the way that all things must decay. / She wept: sh…
Imaginary Palestinian Child
Penned by the hand of God are the parameters / This is the land of God and I / Am prepared to settle for far, far less. / I moved like the …
And What Is…
Truth, / Although it did one time, / No longer lies in that direction: / Custom has smoothed flat the sharp / And wayward spike of revelati…
… Is as unreal, as vague and empty as my empty stare.
And I will never look again / At dandelions in the sun / And hope that I may too sprout roots / In sunshine’s murmering summer. / And…
I think, I said, that the shape of all my thoughts / Must be somehow inseparable from the contours of my brain / I like to think myself res…