in love with love

they fell in love so hard he followered her into zen his poetry now spoke of things he yearned to believe in in her journey to enlightenment she understood the obstacle she severed those earthly bonds resolute and unmistakable yet continued to love him in a way he pretended not to recognise a wounded dove… Continue reading in love with love



someone reached out to me and all I saw was grasping I reached out to you and all you saw was grasping all these hands reaching out and we only reach back when we’re weak enough to think a pair aren’t grasping or when we’re strong enough to understand we’re all grasping

Why won’t this mirror break?

this life is a dream, a fantasy— we spend it learning to let go of things we have never truly grasped I am learning to let go of you before I have even had the chance to pretend ever grasping you it is the hardest thing— to destroy a fantasy such as this; to leave… Continue reading Why won’t this mirror break?

This space

this absence holds a shape you might fit here this space seems shaped for you those sounds the words they produce those things that come from you the frequency you emit the contradictions that come from your body betray your shape every moment in your presence seems like a culmination these things that leave you… Continue reading This space

Another river

The moon does not cast our shadows into the water. The pebbles do not watch our shadows drift over as we leave them. That river has been dry for years.

Fear of flying

bury me bury me! bury me right here bury me wherever you like bury me just bury me bury me in your fertility bury me! i just wanna make babies bury me in christian humility —some pretty story like that bury me just bury me bury me oh! marry me! marry me to technology marry… Continue reading Fear of flying

We haunt ourselves

I thought my wife was behind me watching TV – I’d been behaving like she was – I felt her presence. I turned to ask her something and she wasn't there. Then I remembered she'd gone to bed half an hour ago. I guess that's what a ghost is: something so familiar it stays with… Continue reading We haunt ourselves

I will forget you

In the beauty of this moment, outside, Ponsonby road, booking it to the park, Art Deco storefronts pop up with stories, all blue and gold, curves and lines cut the Newton intersection. Desert-chrome risographs of 90’s loves still bounce reckless through shoebox corridors, once flatties playing hacky sack in baggy pants, pulsing to some eternal… Continue reading I will forget you

Ghost stories

You are a ghost patiently waiting the return of a summer’s day spent in beach towels, flying over sand dunes. Go to the light. You are a ghost patiently waiting for that book you almost wrote to hit the bestsellers list. Go to the light. You are a ghost patiently waiting for that lover you… Continue reading Ghost stories

For Kozu chan

One night she came creeping – startled me from sleep with cold, eager hands – leaning in for a kiss. In shock and defiance, I refused her, so she stole a hug instead, and as she engulfed me everyone and everything I ever loved rose up, one-by-one to visit, and fell away cleansed in boundless waves.… Continue reading For Kozu chan