erasing what i knew
Excerpts from my 2016 chapbook (unpublished).
This short collection contained works about living a more nomadic lifestyle and the observations I made about the places I visited, the interactions I had and the journey I took.
To request a copy of the chapbook for free, please contact me directly.
This short collection contained works about living a more nomadic lifestyle and the observations I made about the places I visited, the interactions I had and the journey I took.
To request a copy of the chapbook for free, please contact me directly.
Facing West
Facing West
I pause and consider
the many thousand kilometres
and three time zones that
separate us and
realise that for you
night has already arrived.
Facing West
I pause and consider
the many thousand kilometres
and three time zones that
separate us and
realise that for you
night has already arrived.
Impermanent beliefs
growing realisations
no matter beliefs
regret and his brothers
bring no relief
exposed insufficiency
the finite life
fears of aloneness
attachment’s strife
indulgence in blackness
brings dancerly grief
choosing this moment
a root for relief
lived through transience
with feet on the ground
a life is a reaction
not something to be found
growing realisations
no matter beliefs
regret and his brothers
bring no relief
exposed insufficiency
the finite life
fears of aloneness
attachment’s strife
indulgence in blackness
brings dancerly grief
choosing this moment
a root for relief
lived through transience
with feet on the ground
a life is a reaction
not something to be found
A street in Grenoble
The dulled clatter of plastic chairs
dragged indoors behind see through walls,
a woman’s hand touching sand.
Stone, grey and stained with histories, walls
are labelled with transient ambitions
or legacies who outlived their founders,
doors are locked grates positioned,
out will stay out so in can stay in
tomorrow they will all try again, to stay in.
Cobbled criss-crossing with human precision
gutters now lead rainwater and occasional soap suds
from window cleaners’ rhythmical weekly visits
while countless footsteps carrying countless eyes
look for validation in countless windows,
look for elevation at a countable price.
We, meanwhile, we will move on, the circus and I
to another street in another town to the same sorts
of steps and the same sorts of eyes.
Distant songs arrive from the nearby square
melody under the family dinner rolling at my side,
one man cycles while an older man walks by
and the woman sweeps the front step in a long skirt
drawing on a long cigarette reward
at the days close, anticipation of the evening ahead.
The dulled clatter of plastic chairs
dragged indoors behind see through walls,
a woman’s hand touching sand.
Stone, grey and stained with histories, walls
are labelled with transient ambitions
or legacies who outlived their founders,
doors are locked grates positioned,
out will stay out so in can stay in
tomorrow they will all try again, to stay in.
Cobbled criss-crossing with human precision
gutters now lead rainwater and occasional soap suds
from window cleaners’ rhythmical weekly visits
while countless footsteps carrying countless eyes
look for validation in countless windows,
look for elevation at a countable price.
We, meanwhile, we will move on, the circus and I
to another street in another town to the same sorts
of steps and the same sorts of eyes.
Distant songs arrive from the nearby square
melody under the family dinner rolling at my side,
one man cycles while an older man walks by
and the woman sweeps the front step in a long skirt
drawing on a long cigarette reward
at the days close, anticipation of the evening ahead.