Poems
The Mathematics of Us
The geometry of lust creates a non-equilateral triangle where fractals of loveform and reform. The ebb and flow of being with and (being) without long term desire. When the calculus of jealousyplays out in full, dx over dy differentiating her with you and you with me, then the old slide rule(s) (or rules slide) and …
Every School Bully
I’m here again. It’s that time of day again. Time for school. Time for fears. And that feeling, that sickening tide washes over me – drowns any courage I had. I’m down again, on the ground again. Blood dumping dearly – nowhere to hide. Time for pain. Time for slain. He’s here again. It’s …
The Thing Beneath Grandma’s Bed
Grandma has an old fashioned bed, with a big wooden frame and springs. The sort of bed that has space underneath it, the sort that can hide lots of things. When we stay there, my sister Sally and me, we use it to play hide and seek. It’s a great place to hide in …
Vampires play football too
There was a young vampire called Rad, who had a famous dad, called Vlad. After school, when Rad rushed home to play footie, his dad had to watch from inside with his butty. Vlad had to stay in the dark, out of the sun, so he missed having lots of fun with his son. …
In(her) reality
HATE is not… forgetting what was done, or forgiving those who did it. It is not moving on, nor taking each day at a time, or trying to find a light in the darkness, that banishes shadows and chains. HATE is not… calm and considered, nor warm and willing. It is not letting go, …
A Question of Faith
I am tired of this now being, I am tired of this being now. My life… stretched out and played in full, like an old accordion drawn out on a chord, then squeezed back again (in reverse). Over and over and over. Memories come and go in time and space,the very nature of my …
An Autism Acrostic
An(d)¤ Until¤ They¤ Integrate¤ Socially¤ More¤ ¤ Unapologetic¤ Trauma¤ In¤ Some¤ Minds¤ ¤ ¤ Trauma¤ In¤ Some¤ Minds¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ In¤ Some¤ Minds¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ Some¤ Minds¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ Minds¤ Mind¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ This is one of a pair of poems I wrote in response …
Autistic American Football
I run interference for him. He’s my quarterback, but one who only rarely makes his own play. Always, seemingly, he must follow the play of others. He needs protection from the world around him Daily. Because he’s wired differently. Thinks differently. Talks without a filter. No holds barred. And, no matter how hard he tries, …
Look what computers did to my family
Here I stand, resolute, but alone, struggling to cling to the last vestiges of face to face family life. Saturday tea time tables and shared viewing. Those tattered curtains of distant memories appear unsullied when illuminated, through dyed pink lenses. Images of a life gone by. Down the shallow scree they fall, eager …
My dad was poetry to me
The man who taught me to ride a bike, (by pretending he was still holding on) is gone. The man who taught me how to drive his car, (even though I crashed it, and we didn’t get far) is gone. This man fed the birds every day, and made bread so right, but fudge …