Poetry

Homely, lonely night. Venus shines against vacancy.He doesn’t paint the bars that keep him so far from starry

We, the silver birch. Villagers say we are The Three Sisters.

I start to think you stink like Beowulf

More Than a Handful is about revisiting childhood and seeing things both as a child and as an adult.

It’s all how you juggle the chaos, the strife of a circus life.

Backward, echoing, mirroring It is provocative to postulate