It’s the swell of her breast, there in the afternoon sun

that reminds me of a mango stained by the heat of Helios

and I quickly look away, and she realises.

Because you don’t need to know what was taken,

only see what is missing.

Beauty in a Plastic Chair

The tiles are yellow linoleum – a kind of faded egg yolk colour. Each tile is suffused with pale white and gray stripes that are barely noticeable – or at least they wouldn’t be noticeable if it weren’t for the one tile that is set perpendicular to all the others, so it’s pattern is broken….

Bitten Three Times

  The bamboo that grew was no longer just about privacy but now pain, it’s new shoots hidden like daggers the way guerrilla forces would set traps in the jungle in those old movies on the flickering static of our little silver television set. You would set a bounty, hand me a thin knife, sharp…


Water doesn’t meander, it just looks that way from somewhere above, sweeping curves all choosing (or are they chosen for?) the path of least resistance; there is no time to waste, only the scurrying voice of haste   From the hill I can see the river where tomorrow we will go fishing and I stand…

The Memory of Fabric

It’s more about the shape of a person- you’ve faded so much in so short a time that it terrifies me- you are now more concept than a reality, what if I can’t hold onto you?   Like that girl, who now rests in my past, just a name and a series of images, freckles,…

Ctrl. +Alt. + Del.

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on.
I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.”
― Jonathan Safran Foer

Imagining Snow

It snowed for the first time in 6 years in Rome today. This poem is a response to the way the flakes may have felt, in waiting to find their place there…

A Ragged Congregation

I wait and listen and watch, and my father’s spirit joins the congregation, settles in a place between my lungs and my heart, drawn here from his body a few kilometres away, and through my eyes he watches the first hesitant appearance of a scattering of gemstone stars. 

Gold Dust

There’s a moment when the sun breaks through the quicksilver swirl of the clouds, and a beam of light scans the fields beyond and below like a spotlight, and you wonder “Is that God, peeping at His creation?” Below lie the bones of cave bears among the scattered limestone and shale dandruff of the cliffs;…

All the Wisdom of the World

All the world’s wisdom is found here; or so it would seem. Printed on false weathered timber and on paper reams.   Mantras hung in the entrance hall, white is just preferred. And best of all by the toilet walls- thought for your pennies (undeterred).   Lectures on love and family, wisdom -inner peace! Reminders…

Buda Pest

I took this picture, but it was a poor comparison to the one I took a few hours earlier with my wife in it.

3 Stories of an Uncle

His face is plump and decorated with the sort of moustache that immediately comes to mind when thinking of the European male stereotype, and indeed he is truly the embodiment of the traditional Austrian man.