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Latest posts
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The Curtains
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4 min read
This is possibly one of my oldest unpublished poems, probably dating from around 1992. I remember showing it to a girl I was going out with in the late 1990s; she read it and then exclaimed “But what does it meeeeeaaannnnn???!” We broke up shortly after that.
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SIPRI Yearbook 2012: its part in my downfall
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2 min read
Heh, heh. Well, not really. But in the spirit of Spike Milligan, one could say that the last six months, during which I’ve been working at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) as an editor, have well and truly opened my eyes to what’s goin’ ahn in this crazy, mixed up world.
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In which I make my first foray into the wilds of West Virginia.
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Morgantown personal rapid transit
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1 min read
You have to admit that some of the most untold ideas ever have come out of France: Henri Laconte, Minitel, Daft Punk and, best of all, Aramis.
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From the archives: “He carried oranges”
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5 min read
I have absolutely no idea what this prose fragment was supposed to be about but I do know that it’s been fifteen years or so since I cared one way or the other. I was probably reading too much Borges at the time. The good folks at Going Down Swinging have cross-posted this piece on…
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Oh look, wow: Twitter functionality in WP!
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1 min read
https://twitter.com/daveyinsweden/status/221722405838651392
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From the archives: What a bird
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1 min read
This is one of my all-time favourite poems, mostly because it’s just so daft. I think I wrote it in the late 1990s. It has a real ‘I don’t give a fuck’ feel about it. I remember reading it at ‘Chapel off Chapel’ at some point, right before the release of The Happy Farang. Good…
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Yikes! Where did the time go?
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7 min read
‘Regular’ ‘readers’ of this ‘blog’ would be excused for thinking that I’d fallen under a bus, given the absolute lack of any kind of update for over a month now. But the contrary is true: far from having fallen under a bus, I’m actually – ah, whatever.
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Sam & Dave historical tour
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2 min read
One of the things that I’ve been quietly bitter about for a long time now is the fact that the Wikipedia page for David Prater redirects to the page for Dave Prater from the soul duo Sam and Dave. Some time earlier this century I attempted to channel my misguided anger via a poem on…
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An ex-editor’s lament
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2 min read
This poem has absolutely nothing to do with me reaching the end of my time as Managing Editor of Cordite Poetry Review.
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Neenish tarts, bus shelters, Wagga Wagga and me
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4 min read
Never thought I’d use these four ‘terms’ in the same sentence but there you go – if life was a Venn diagram, there are several shaded areas in which me and neenish tarts would intersect.
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Poem of the week newsletter: twenty poems in!
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2 min read
If it seems like an age ago that I posted the first installment of my poem-of-the-week odyssey, that’s because it was.
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Donald G. Payne on benzedrine, baths and nymphos
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1 min read
After a while she realized she’d made a mistake: the sort of mistake that would never have occurred if she hadn’t been so tired. She tossed the calculations aside. She lit a cigarette, and noticed her hands were trembling. Christabel Barlow, she told herself, you’re damn-all use to anyone in your present state; you need…
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Coaxing the heart to heal itself
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2 min read
just not possible. it’s not possible that the heart could heal itself (within days the way a novel does, metaphorically, or the way a tree heals the wind as it sways not likely. not in my lifetime, or yours will we live to see the human heart sing the way a pop star does having…
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(On the tomb of) Ephrem Tamiru
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2 min read
no he’s not dead yet (as if he ever could pass on or away from this winged world Ephrem Tamiru! tell us what you think re Anchin Kalmeselesh or else just th sax (sax slow and shark-like snarls through an Asmara bar to hit Thomas Keneally cold in the nose like a sweet tea might…