Tag Archive: poetry

Kirstibot Strikes Again

Secretly, my favourite thing is the ‘What Would I Say’ site (www.what-would-i-say.com). Every few weeks someone will post a link from this website, which compiles past Facebook statuses, jumbles them together and generates… Continue reading

For Ian Gordon

It was via a text message earlier in the week that I was informed of the passing of Ian Gordon. I only met Ian once. It was only a few months ago when… Continue reading

In Memory of Sarah Broom

It was with a mild hangover and a brimming heart that I greeted the day following my first writers festival reading. I attended a great many luminous events, but read as part of… Continue reading

I Should Have Said I’m Sorry

The best thing about a mum is having the sheets tucked in just right. Mum was a pile of laundry on a Sunday, and it wasn’t the same in the summer. Just like… Continue reading

Maman.

I write this entry the day after my mother’s birthday, on which I, as so often, begged her back. My mother was not only the first woman I loved, she was also the… Continue reading

On Activism, And The Man Who Came In My Eye.

Seated on Mumbai’s bloated shoreline, a man called Omar told me he wanted to be a Bollywood star. “But not all wishes become true,” he said sadly, already afflicted by the soap-opera insincerity… Continue reading

These Fires

We have been cold to the bone. And even under the hot stream of the shower, we don’t know how to get warm again. So it is, with love. We have been loved… Continue reading

Found

My parents were in love in a small town in Nepal. On the edge of a lake, in the cup of the held hands of the Himalayas, they skinny-dipped in waters now infested… Continue reading

My Week in Books

There’s nothing like a spot of sickness to make you appreciate the power of the written word. I stack my books on my nightstand, but they tend to work their way into my… Continue reading

The Ways We Fall Out (Of Love)

Memory is a funny thing. It’s a little bit like grief. We process something until it stops being what it was, and starts being what we needed it to be. I remember riding… Continue reading