Richard Siken

Dyed bright green crew cut, tall (like amazonian tall), round glasses – she worked in the bookshop and she was pretty. She recommended what was become my  favourite poet of all time to me. After performing at poetry night, she handed me a glass of red with a ripped envelope saying “Richard Siken Crush”.

(Yeh I know I hoped it was her number too but what she gave me was better anyway…)

I wasn’t massively into the poetry side of life but I had dabbled a bit, turns out this guy had won a new and upcoming type prize so I was intrigued and bought the book – this would also be great conversation starter and reason to talk the pretty green haired human.

Anyway bought the book and I never spoke to the green haired beauty again, it’s been a whole year and I haven’t ever saw her.

The way that Siken presents whatever that feeling is, call it love (?!), through fragmented metaphors and scattered words, precisely slashed across the page is just beautiful. He captures love in all its gruesome, gruelling gory.

Green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool

You could drown in those eyes, I said.

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and we want to be rescued.

Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.

Theses, our bodies, possessed by light.

Tell me we’ll never get used to it.


Also here’s a poem I wrote about the green-haired gal and some others who were on my angsty, gay, teenage mind about a year ago:

Ladies of the Day, Night and the Mind

Things are hard

When her pants scream

So loud

I cannot be around

Such pattern.


But the other

In her leather

Thigh crushing jeans

Slink my way but

Her surfaces are slick.


Then there’s you.

I like the colour green.

Crew cut. Close shave!

I almost fell, just

Missing out.


Then, you dyed your hair pink.

Now, I like the way my blood mixes,

Tepid waters topped with a rose filled oil spill,

Smother my pale skin

Shivering against the later phrase of the sunset.


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