Poet in Résistance
Lifeguards in the Sky
​
In a world full of AI,
​don't let your poetry die.
Give it to those
lifeguards in the sky.
​
​
Through
Some things just make too much sense.
Poet in Résistance
Poet in Résistance
​
Don't write.
​
You might say
something
they don't like.
​
Even when it's
right and you have
seen the light.
​
Don't reach further
than your fence.
​
You might not
have a defence.
​
"I'm sorry, Ms Jackson.
​
I'm the
Poet in Résistance."
Performances
Faith in Place: Cookie Dough for Collective Minds
The Power of Ancestry
​
​
Our stories
are our
poetry.
​
My Grandmother was a Painter
​
My grandmother was a painter.
so that's good enough for me.
​
Her brush travelled 'oer
the illustrious sea.
​
​
​
Oxford Laundromat
​​
So there I was
walking to an
Oxford Laundromat,
two shopping bags
full to the brim with
dirty clothes
evening my load
like a part-time
homeless man.
Bag handles
stretching towards decay;
shoulders sustaining
soreness on such a
pleasant spring day.
White chalk on the pavement,
even if I cannot stay;
carrying the load of your
streets in a particular way.
A crash-test dummy for the
things that I might say.
Admiring the gait of your houses
in the ‘right’ posthumous way.
​