I've always enjoyed doing laundry, in a strange way. I've not had a passion for it, per se, but fabrics always tell a great story. Personally, I think that this is one of my poems that has managed to have a more developed story. At the very least, it outlives a moment. I've been through it… Continue reading Tumble-dry
They watched a woman rot. Watched as she made like the Wicked Witch of the West and warped, into something resembling a dead fox, lying on the doorstep of the care home where the uncared for are monitored by the careless. . Men in cold suits, the colour of industrialisation talk to men with hard… Continue reading Carcass
