By what rough science
were you given
this migraine of a name

 
Disgust springs up from the guts
to meet a sprinting lump
of furry muscle.

I’ve seen dozens of you about the Fylde,
face all vape, fatigue, some wild sense of
beard, black hair to border it all.

The bird
crept up on him, threw its voice into an empty tree

      Girl Awaits the Psychic Investigators They’re late. The table is laid with a clean cloth, all normal and neat. Our visitors, city men, may find it hard to navigate the path but we can wait. They hope to gather evidence of a haunting; whether he’ll...

We don’t decide who we love.
Who we hate, yes,
who we’re jealous of,
but never who we end up loving.

Someone is taking a photo
at a wedding
of their baby
at a celebration.