Long Washouts Poems

we sat, my brother and I
leaning against the old wood pannels of the room
the smoke engulfed us like breath
as the threat of violence loomed

his voice was quiet still
passion and regret burned in his eyes
when he...

Read More

Watching the astronauts
We see the light of the world
Above ly their thoughts
They appear in a rainbow swirled

But my mind has been put into a transmission
Like an old telephone the message is sent
Of literature it shall...

Read More

Gravel crusted potholes, all slathered up with mud,
    And ruts that jar your bones served on the side.
No place to turn around: I know because I've tried;
    The heavy...

Read More

A town wheezes the last rites over 
its people through phlegm-ridden
lungs and turgid cankers.

Its blistered wounds are coated 
in the mud that lines its harbour 
and creeks.

The loss of the dockyards was its lowest tide.

Now,...

Read More