In theory, I can only write like me, but real­ity is less defined. I do my best not to steal from others, but some influ­ence is obvi­ously inev­it­able. If it could be wished into being, like a genie, I’d have a style that would shout my name. As it is, the lines are…

I Allow me to dis­agree. The first presen­ti­ment is not shame – noth­ing com­mit­ted, noth­ing to be guilty for. The first presen­ti­ment is an unac­count­able loss, a feel­ing that there is some­thing that was sup­posed to be done some­where, a for­got­ten task that we may or may…

From the train, the only dis­tin­guish­able life is mani­fes­ted through the unend­ing clotheslines, and the cars left lying care­lessly and haphaz­ardly around the deep scars human­ity calls roads. Through their clean wash­ing, I pry into their back­yards, and on into their…

I am weird des­pite a lack of defin­i­tion for nor­mal­ity. My mother says I am organ­ising a revolu­tion. My friends say: enough of the exist­en­tial­ist crap. I take pleas­ure in the fact that the integ­ral of d(cabin) over cabin is a house­boat and that there exist in this…

I am sure they missed my word of thanks, Or mis­in­ter­preted it, which comes, at the end, To the same thing. Both their faces were Pic­tures framed in grey, and every memory Had etched itself a line on the leather-smooth Canvas. One looked out the window the whole Way…

Out of the dark­ness, a tunnel has been chis­elled. Painstak­ing and heart-rend­ing, over the years, from the inside out. Slowly gently, the water begins to trickle from the dam Aiding in its turn the excav­a­tion; car­ry­ing twigs and mud and gen­eral debris into the light,…

for Seamus Heaney As in war, we are com­rades and enemies all at once. We inter­cept another’s plea for help, and under­stand instinct­ively the pain and the struggle to escape. Some­times, seeing between the coded lines we com­pre­hend a deeper mean­ing within the general…

My mor­tal­ity con­tin­ues to affront me mer­ci­lessly – Writ­ing a letter, I ima­gine it old and yellow in a dis­tant des­cend­ant’s hands, exclaim­ing wonder at dis­cov­er­ing such an ancient doc­u­ment. Walk­ing under a con­crete tunnel, I envis­aged The crash­ing col­lapse, and the…

for Mat­thew I didn’t know that life could cut like this, Razor-sharp and unreas­on­able: A shot going off in a young mind, No-one there to com­fort the tor­men­ted. I didn’t real­ise I could bleed through tears, Pain­ful and sear­ing, Burn­ing into veins of water The fire…

The best of crimes is the one that is quick and silent It creeps up from behind Stalk­ing you on velvet paws And before you know what’s hit you You’re down there, there was no shot, And there’ll be no writh­ing about. Not even a sound and it’s all over. Even better if…

Coming to the con­clu­sion that today Should be struck from the record Was by far the easi­est decision In a long day of drag­ging feet. Know­ing that this was nature’s revenge For my month of elev­ated spir­its, I still waltzed into every down­fall, Every door­jamb, every…

Excerpt from “A Rather Public State­ment” by Tony Con­nors Finally, let me assure those Who ima­gine me lend­ing a will­ing ear, That my lop­sided appear­ance Is con­gen­ital, And should not be inter­preted As a lean­ing Towards any­thing Other than the ground. I don’t walk, I…

When thrown into an unknown land like the rest of one’s life, there are those that make plans, map their lives accord­ing to the obstacles to be over­come (hus­band, chil­dren, house) and those that stumble through and around, exclaim­ing in joy at the unex­pec­ted lake or…