Play ↮ Ground

Recent activity…

Organised fun…

  • Morning Pages

    Both my mother and my friend Colin mentioned this week that they had begun writing morning pages. This concept at first new to me, became a signal on second listen became a signal and I wanted to respond. It was on my mental checklist for this particular Sunday morning. Rousing at 7am I lay musing…

  • Cement

    The cement mixer stands in a driveway Reminding me of you I don’t want to leave Holding the perfect ratio It turns slowly It gets stuck on your skin I have no desire to take a chisel to it I only want to wet it again Reawaken the same mix We crafted so carefully. 

  • Mortal Coil

    We must wait until your heartbeatGoes past the second hand She held onto my wrist I leant into the curve of my womb I once thought it leant right for you but I have recently found out it tilts forward There is an islandMy friends are flying home to There is something inside meI want…

  • atenent

    I’m scared, to not be a tenentTo stop, taking care of anothers It never feels like my own, anyway, but should it?I’m owed but also oweI’m scared of silenceUnsure, what I’ll find in itSay nothing and move awayTo a new placeBut you never really get anywhere, do you?Pull your knees to your chestRub you cheeks…

  • Undo Send

    My right thumb is swimming backFor signs of loveMy left has abandoned ship *was abandoned on shipThey have an ethical-non-monogomous relationshipsWith my remaining digits Both thumbs have been left, onceHeld by something immaterial Both are unbittenFor unwordable reason I’m smitten by the potential attachmentFuck, I forgot to attachSo I send a follow upSwollowing all resonsibilityMy…

  • Nest defence

    I’m sleeping in the car like a passengerRemembering another who held back their handMy waves are in deltaBetween the gap of their chair, and the doorReach for my calf Unhook its head from the fenceIt runs to it’s motherI’m awoken by my own salt waterI’m a-wash with myself I’ve not washed for daysI’ve been crouching…

  • Bresa at the river

    Last May I stayed with Bresa and her partner on their farm in Valencia, located near the left bank of the river Xúquer. Which they translated to me, as The Sugar River. The area is known for rice, oranges and Moorish structures.  The bank she sits at burst last October, amidst the floods that devastated…

  • Speaking while driving

    I may have set my flat on fire on the night of Baltane, I thought, as I left a thorny bouquet in persuit of a potentially burning iron. On my way there I’d still not decided what to bring as my offering to the Women’s Circle that evening, to represent love and beauty. I’d considered…

  • Speaking to my phone

    The sea, it puts out the burning and leaves with it a sting that soothes. I wondered, as I watched the man swim around the cove if I ever, could leave this place. His small head, a fixed point drawing around the rock. There was a stretch, where I was worried, so I stayed. I…

  • You almost bought Me Flowers

    In a book of Love Poems, my Mum bought for my Dad in her 30’s, she had bookmarked and inscribed the poem Flowers by Wendy Cope, saying how it reminded her of him.  Reaching a similar age, I have been paper cut by this realisation again. Having been bought a second-hand card game in a…