Hello

      Overblown Rose A glassmaker, breathing down a long, metal rod, blowing a bud to a bulb which grows, told what it’s meant to be, how it’s meant to look. Cold, outside air hits; the shoot splits; little notions spitting out from the stem crystallise...

      truth bomb listen I grew up in a suburb where each street was named for a fairy tale in the land of dark forests and grimm siblings and in my mother tongue which brought you rapunzel and rumpelstiltskin no story ends in a twee happily ever after...

      Diggers We brought two diggers home, furious black engines, charged and alive, fire eyes with a touch of white. Outside, they clawed the earth, ripped back its skin, made visible its bones, a kingdom of limpet arms, divorced fingers outlining...

      The Farmer’s Daughter As a girl, I would stretch my Easter treats out until my birthday, birthday treats until Halloween Halloween treats until Christmas, Christmas treats until spring, conserving my quarterly reaping as though sweets were root...

      Braefoot point The undertread mush swallows chorused gold dropped from the bow of singing beech. Across the track's split, dark haws bloat, as drumming sticks drip to catch black at the hedge's throat. There must be new ways to be nowhere between...

      Virus six    dark    the idiot’s lantern shows me rainbows you branded sick   which made me wear masks   wash hands as if Lady Macbeth breathless   gagging  until I spit it out blue eyes turn to pansies   fag butts  syringes before a ten year talk...

      The Ultimate Painting - Study for Portrait VII (Francis Bacon) A found poem using the text describing Study for Portrait VII on moma.org   Seated on a throne-like gilded chair He endeavoured The image of open mouthed terror is a recurring...

      Being Autistic I am handed a racket and ushered onto court. An avid tennis fan, I am awed by being in the place champions are made. But I realise that, although I’ve grasped most of the rules by watching tournaments on tv - in the safety of my...

      Knitting It’s Grandma Gibson who starts me off gently correcting me, praising the stitches pointing out how it’s written on the pattern. Shows me how to cast on. Then Mum’s Mum, Grandma Gasson tries to improve my grip, gets me to wrap the wool...

      Kenwood Chef I blow dust (an epidermis of powdered sugar) from the plastic body and think of what Mother conjured from spatula whip and grinder (each task with its own attachment) never tiring helping hands that saved time for the hundred and one...

        D. Parker spends most of her days surrounded by books both at work and at home. In her free time she reads and occasionally lets words form on paper.    

      weather forecast for the funeral   there is a chance of deer grazing of mica rising in stone of knee deep sphagnum of two blank pages there is a chance of roses of lips being sealed of starling clouds yielding of a gurgle in the ditch of snipe...

      The state of war For Ukraine Storm. Broken spruces like matches In the Estonian forest. Spruces or pines? Broken our souls, Those, who did pass across, will not understand… Those, who did not pass across, will not understand As well    ...

      The birds are spies, they report to the trees   The birds don’t grant the day without sacrifice. We feed them gold bullion in place of corn. We are starving. We gift them an audience to our momentary. Tomorrow has gone, so we offer air burials as...