Drawing Water
byNow when I was a little chap I had a passion for maps. I would look for hours at South America, or Africa, or…
Now when I was a little chap I had a passion for maps. I would look for hours at South America, or Africa, or…
Moksha The desert has no memory. Sun beats on its chest, collarbone glistens: I wait for rain, an angry sea filling the sky…
In 2005, I went to Palestine for three weeks with my parents, my wife and our daughter, aged two. We were invited to carry…
Spread over my kitchen table, emptied from the various cloth bags and tubs, were the wild plants that I’d gathered that day. As I…
By the time I was seven I had moved house four times in three countries on two continents. A few years later, I found…
There are many different approaches to drawing animals. In particular there was a shift in the 19th century away from French idealism towards an…
The place where my son died had horses. Only because when a dying boy asks you for a horse, you find more than one….
Mapping Edge Finger touched mapped faded edge, unending ink black shaped lines, tracing hillsides I walked as a child. Black tufted strokes,…
In 2005, I went to Palestine for three weeks with my parents, my wife and our daughter, aged two. We were invited to carry…
For those who delight more in the seed of things, I can say that these poems investigate queer, genderfluid indigeneity, and interspecies-relational philosophy through deep observation of wild birds.