I am a writer! Click the posts to find out about my writing and to read some of my stories and poems.
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The Cluedo Club Killings – Play
Student-sleuth, Esther Jones, is at it again. This time she’s moved to London and, oh, she’s queer. Suffice to say there’s a murderer on the loose and they’ve got it in the for the univesity’s Cluedo Club. One by one the members are getting picked off by some lunatic modelling their murders on the boardgame…
The Ascent – Poem
He is walking through the depths of a crimson cave, he is taking all the steps, each one with pain is made…
The Descent – Poem
Come with me into the cave and we’ll descend into the depths.
The Castle – A Story
This is your castle. Layers and layers of stone slabs hewn from bleeding mountainsides and cut to fit the grooves. Oak trees, felled and chopped, keep up the rooftops on which the towers stand, staring at the sun. Inside, monarchy reigns. Queen Esmerelda, and your wife, Queen Titania. Fierce, warriors, plutocrats and politicians, what awesome…
Grieving For Queertopia – Poem
Have you been, I wonder if you have, it’s like no place I’ve ever seen. There, the mimosas are bottomless, the faces are many, the shamed, defamed, lily-livered and craven, the fags, the queers, we’re all here and the table is just laden with every fruit you could indulge on as you divulge on only…
Stone By Stone – Short Story
War was hard won. Years of sword, cudgel, adze, tar and flame had etched themselves without remorse onto our lives and deaths. Yet we were always many and they were less and without us who would grow the wheat, who would tend the livestock, who would build the realm? At that final battle we amassed….
The Old Men And The Sea – Short Story
He stood there on the marram grass, a rough carpet at his feet, and held the sword aloft. He was a proud man, our hero, for he was strong and he had vanquished the tyrant. The blood still marred his blade but it was evidence of his triumph. A clouded grey sky tried to part…
The Things I Freely Give – Short Story
You are beautiful. By my standards. I cannot speak for the standards of others. Your eyes, their depth, the contours of your nose, each lip, each piece makes a greater whole. And I sit opposite you, here in my bedroom, and that cheap incense burns, a spiral turn of smoke, an open window on a…
Tents – Poem
There’s a tent in a garden by a stately home where butter, yeast and flour make dough. Where Mary Berry detests soggy bottoms and an orange man scoffs bakers’ dozens. It’s a quaint sort of place and the people kind of funny but in that tent they try and bake community. There’s a tent in…
Pilgrimage – Short Story
I walk into the bar and no one smiles at me. It is a world lit by the slit light of the disco ball. Toned torsos undulate in the screens on the wall, they possess no hairs, they barely possess faces but they do promise: they promise of all the things I could have, of…
In Enlightenment’s Wake – Poem
A poem written in response to the book Enlightenment’s Wake by philosopher John Gray. I wrote it a few years ago but it seems more relevant now. * In Enlightenment’s Wake we stand alone, far from ourselves and far from home. Jet black the skies crimson the seas, all for the sake, of eternity. We…
