Tagged relationships


+ I.


Maryborough. What would Twain say? I ask. It’s a station with a town attached. Ignition off, you …

The Poet’s Progress

Declan expects Byron Appleby to be a middle-aged, rumpled Englishman wearing worn cords, a hairy tweed jacket and smelling of …

Her Death About

I could tell how she needed you,
though I was never sure about me;
we needed her.
Boyfriend, best friend:…


¬ I.

Now is the tinkle of a child at the curled brow of a clown in a moving circus …


There’s any number of archaeological wonders
hogging my blankets each morning;

plaster Pompeii casts of the scratch of your beard…

Winter’s Firelight

“Where do you want these boxes, boss?” Alex, the young deliveryman asked.

“Here, in the corner. Yes, yes, that will …