Latest Published Poetry

 
 

The black sheep of bootham bar

Powders Press,

Issue 5: Pride 2023

for Auden

This poem seeks to correct the apparent absence of much material in Auden’s illustrious back catalogue of work to reference his birthplace, York. In line with my PhD research into queer archives & associated historical figures, my archive of York must include Auden, but having only lived here for a brief time as a child, can he have been considered a queer figure in his time spent here? I can roughly pinpoint where he “walks” & expand on a few ideas of queerness in the Yorkshire dialect, such as in my website title, Nowt So Queer.

bodies that made me electric

Powders Press,

Issue 5: Pride 2023

Between Walt Whitman & Lana Del Rey

I must confess I’d read my fair share of Whitman at the time of writing this piece, and so must have unconsciously borrowed the phrase “body electric” from his Leaves of Grass. I must also confess, however, that I was not aware until searching for the phrase from Whitman’s poem, that the words also appeared in song lyrics by Lana Del Rey. Though I’m more than familiar with them now. Bodies That Made Me Electric explores a moment of rare detachment between body & soul, when multiple bodies blur into one & the same in the pursuit of satisfying lust.

candy floss

queer

Impostor Journal,

Volume 3: Issue 1

for C.33 (Oscar Wilde)

This poem charts my exploration (so far) into shared moments & locations between myself & Oscar Wilde. I visited his homes in London & Paris, a site in York from one of his lecture tours, the place where he died, his prison cell, and kissing the perspex box that contains his grave (as is the tradition). Finally this year I visited the UK’s first LGBTQ+ history museum, Queer Britain, where I stood face-to-face with his prison cell door. I ruminated on how best to approach this peculiar item in a way somehow more visceral than I had with his tomb’s tomb.

 

other.

ways who snickle against lost time

memories from a timeline that never happens

Hearth & Coffin,

Volume 3: Issue 3, "Micro"

This poem is unusually short compared to the poems I usually write. It’s a short & sharp poetic excision of generational cycles of abuse, and ways we perpetuate & unwittingly continue these rhythms in our lives. Growing up and being called “sensitive” is just an emotional abbreviation for “won’t put up with your shit in the same way anymore”, in the same way that being called “empathic” is often a learned skill from reading micro-aggressions & subtle nuances as a child. And the cycle extends into our adulthood and sneaks into our romantic relationships. Unless we search for something “other.”

Coffin Bell Journal,

Issue 7.2: "multiverses"

This prose poem creeps and winds down ginnels & snickleways, whips around corners, and peeks into the cracks. It’s really a metaphor for finding those rare & quiet moments of queer history in amongst a rich & varied history that is celebrated so loudly in a city such as York. It also serves as my acknowledgment that while much of my research is site or person centric, there are a multitude of lives lived in the queer experience throughout history that will never be uncovered because they existed as quiet and hidden moments that would not appear in any document. This poem is my elegy to all those that fell between the legal documents that survived as testament to our troubled past, and yet lived - quietly, safely, but nonetheless queerly.

Coffin Bell Journal,

Issue 7.2: "multiverses"

I’d fallen down a queer theory rabbit hole exploring Lee Edelman’s theory of temporal dissonance, and hit upon this idea of timelines that don’t happen (not adhering to heteronormative reproductive futurism in the same way). But in realising that where sexuality may exclude some from the prevailing narrative of continuing their family bloodline directly, for others it must be a choice, at least to a degree. For me, as a bisexual man, I have to consider the possibility that at some point I may make the unconscious choice to enter a relationship that may mean I split my timeline at the point of continuing my family heritage. This poem seeks to challenge the rigid chronology of our lives, and shares with the reader the moments I might have shared with a child, as my father did with me.

 

black treacle heart (waffles optional)

white sage smoke for the perpetually overwhelmed

read more…

Cape Magazine,

Issue 5.2: "Treacle Hearts"

This poem in seven movements tells several stories of love. Love that feels like making golden syrup at home, love that feels like treading water, love that feels like drowning, love that feels saccharine but sickly, love that feels like coming home to all your favourite home-cooked recipes, love that delights and overwhelms all of the senses, love that feels like overindulgence, love that feels like instances of pleasure and regret, love that smacks upon the lips and holds fast the tongue. All of our past love stories make up our narrative of what love means to us, and love is far greater than the sum of our parts.

coalition works,

Issue 5: Fall 2023

A short poem about the rattling sound I thought my brain was making do to increased anxiety & stress. It felt like a constant background noise inside my head, not unlike tinnitus, a gnawing at the fringes of my soul, with persistent clicks that reminded me of the sound a kite makes as it escapes, pulled away by a strong gust of wind, a quick series of clicks as the handle swings from left to right beyond your control, and the string pulls away. I wonder how to reclaim my mind from these lofty heights of anxiety, and if I’ll ever make it safely back to myself. When will I know the ground again?

Poetry Archive

This archive includes all previously published works, displayed side by side in one gallery.

You’ll see new pieces of poetry published first via my social media so as to support the presses & journals that have taken the time to share & print my work, and eventually they will make their way to the archive here with links to the original publications.

I also read & perform my work over on my TikTok, so if you’d rather I poetically navigate between swearwords, but with a face, have a look there.