trans, nerd.


May 2017

Some Kind of Punch and Judy Show

Honest, grubby hands,

Smell of oil and manly man,

Gel and petrol,

Bad coffee machines.

Talk of discs and pads

And clutches and bookings,

Deposits, suppose it’s a walk-in enquiry.

Can you hear me?

Reception’s awful in here

And we’re four hundred pounds



Black Cat

Softly, softly,

Purring and kneading,

Gentle headbutts and 

Green-eyed mystery,

Padding slowly

To nestle on my chest,

Claws and darkness.

Fresh Start

Where the sun sets over the peaks,

Thirty-something miles north, a short hop,

From the claustrophobic red bricks

And straight lines of the old home.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑