trans, nerd.


February 2017

Sod Off

I am not an oyster;

Constant irritation

Will not produce a pearl.


Too Early To Scheme

When schemes are dreams 

They largely stay

Behind the dreamer’s eyes,

They turn and change,

They slowly rot

And become the dreamer’s lies.

Alone In The Office, Or…

“Shh, you’re talking to yourself!”

Said I.

To myself.

For the seventh time.

This morning. 

Doris’ Day

Through the south-west windows

I see Doris. I hear her bellows.

She approaches over the park;

The view from here

Is wonderful on better days

But today

It’s grey.


No answers;

No direction amid the swirling mists

And chaos.

Often lost;

No landmarks to find, no roadsigns,

No payoff.

Peace and Pipes

I bare myself to the water

To legitimise 

My hiding

And pretend it’s something more.

Honour By Sobriety 

“Passed away”,

A turn of phrase

Which hides the horror

Of a daughter

Who drank

To death.


I wrote my own name twice

And twice more 

Became my father.


The sky is a terrible military grey,

The walls are a damp-mottled woodchip beige, 

They speak under their breath in whispers

And it’s always 11:26.

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