Dorian David Leigh
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notdoriangray.bsky.social
Dorian David Leigh
@notdoriangray.bsky.social
290 followers 190 following 660 posts
Poet, mostly. Historian, cat and dog parent, hat wearer, coffee drinker. An imagination with a person attached. He/him/ia.
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notdoriangray.bsky.social
Really pleased that this came together on time, for a change! #PeomsAbout #DogTags for @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk

Annealing is the process of making metal less hard and more malleable.
Annealing By Dorian David Leigh Toes curled in the edge of memory I stand breathing sticky air heavy with aftermath scent sweat trailing fingers through languid depths trawling my liquid self for Trinkets One by one gilt base I place them blush tarnished precious in your cupped hands blessed pressed between your soft palms profaned with my unworthiest hand-offs smooth my rough junk with a tender Kiss The heady heat of you melts my tattered charms into a charm tattooed with me? me standing naked pilgrim flush staining waiting skin before you hang the glinting tag around my prayer-bowed neck before you Vanish Gold glistening through inquisitive fingers is this who I am now? alone surrendered bound and tagged by the fingers of a memory of a ghost of a dream something brushes the back of my neck Your lips Or a chain Or I am chained to your lips
November 21, 2025 at 11:50 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
It's nearly 7am, there was a minor pet emergency and I haven't slept, but some pieces fell into place and here's something for #PoemsAbout #Desire for @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk

Posting before I try to get some sleep, will read and comment when I wake up.
“I Want You Inside Me” I unbury my face / I whisper / you kiss yes to my lips / press yes / down my throat / tongue prayers and disgrace / deep and / wet / aching Graceful / fingers leaking caresses down my back / pushing / into my spine / fingering / between each vertebrae / unhitching / ribs / gaping Spit slick and wide shorn off wingspan / bones exposed / open to your / breath / moist / against my lungs / exposing / panting / wanting / aching In / out / your fingers slip / in out / of my heartbeats / melting / beneath the scrape of your / teeth / across scapular / spine / hips / tinged with the scent of cherries / tongued / gaping (Continued next image) Limbs spread feet tangled / captured by bedsheets / thighs smeared / sticky / with dripped anticipation / I lose my grip / on the sheets / on reality / as you urge me / open / aching You push yourself / cock first into my / thirsty / heart / inching arms hips feet soul deep / buried completely / heart full sex empty / mouth wide / gaping Spilt pools of red collect / drifting feathers shed by paper saints / tainted / vein vermilion / in the pooling wreckage of my sin / face down back bare / aching Shaking / fingers raking blood wet / sheets / flesh / spilling / an opulent shudder / at last / at lust / oh fuck / you begin to thrust By Dorian David Leigh
November 14, 2025 at 5:51 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
So are you.
My hand and wrist: fingers balled into a fist, wrist bearing a tattoo that reads, in script, "I'm Still Here".
October 27, 2025 at 4:18 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Coming in a day late for #PoemsAbout #BurnForTheCamera but I have actually written something complete and not just fragments. @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

Time to go explore everyone else's work.
Silhouette by Dorian David Leigj Black white grey this time I pin you against the wall costume department wings encasing cold light bright warmth supplied by the props department antique lighter flickers naked in your fingers cigarette hazy angel lipped against the concrete Fingertips flick ash to asphalt sticky hot under LA sunlight illuminates Hollywood excrement smoky tip illuminates lips razor cheeks flicker flame streaks dance blue in your eyes Flash bright gunshot guns hot abs ribs collarbones hips limned in artificial light brighter than sin flash flesh for me Thursday morning erect for me Shoot in me before I shoot in you shoot you wide eyed and gruesome angel set in concrete captured enraptured framed for crimes I won't admit are lost decayed destroyed on celluloid You dissolving smoking golden beholden to millennia of icons serene beholding me undeserved reaching desperate hands touch forgotten cigarettes forgotten fingers lingering in me bringing climaxes the script can't serve Manufactured wings shed feathers to bright grey weather illusions captured recaptured by the lens angelic you fragmented me besotted with soft click flame cigarette in your fingers lit in frame I became you came in me reality comes harder if it exists I begged for this did you did I did we in backlit bliss stop to ask the walls if they wanted this
October 25, 2025 at 8:04 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I am trying to go walking more and taking photos has been good motivation. I've moved on to the Proper Camera rather than the smartphone one on days when it isn't raining, but I still take phonecam photos on drizzly days.

These might even be gloomy enough for @braegrosz.com
A rusted attempt at a half-hearted pylon holds up power wires in the foreground, stretching from the green grass to the grey sky in the left half of the frame. To the right and in the background, trees shrink away. A storm threatens, the pylon is singing to the lightning. A bright green paddock grows lush grass in the lower half of the frame. In the distance, a row of trees separates the friendly grass from the menacing grey sky. Power lines cross from a distant pylon to the top of the frame, and to the left is the suggestion of a road. You should jump the fence between the grass and the concrete if you want to chase the lightning. Trees still half bare from winter reach upwards to an unforgiving sky. The clouds are grey and ponderous. The two tallest trees bookend a thinning of the clouds, a slight shimmer that holds the hope of sunlight. Trees and grass to the right and the river on the left travel towards a horizon where a sliver of sunset sneaks through the dense clouds. The image is mostly sky: grey, foreboding, heavy, yet beautiful.
October 16, 2025 at 11:37 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Haven't posted any current work for a while, here's a fragment from something I'm working on for @thebrokenspine.co.uk's #WednesdayWIPs.

This is part of a larger poem that will definitely change both form and face. This is just the getting stuff down sort of stage, with some segmenting happening.
Fragment from something which will become a larger, less coherent, more meaningful poem. So you can see me shine reflected in the light of the halo I spiked to your head Stolen from some long forgotten saint Whose chapel adorned with frescoes becomes the skin of my left thigh And high arched windows reach up my spine to mark my vertebrae with quatrefoil and gleaming stone Somehow you are building me in intricate connecting vaults using stone blocks quarried from the small soft pebbles I've been placing in your hands As I rise from my face down ass up grave and pull the most recent stone from between my teeth To trade with the you I created in me for the me we've created in one another And if we run out of resurrections or wet erections At least I will be beautiful in ruins
October 15, 2025 at 9:05 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Well, I saw this.
A really boring, and I cannot emphasise enough just how boring, greywacke rock (smooth, grey, exactly what you'd picture if you imagined an unexciting large smooth grey stone). Only this one has googly eyes stuck to it, and suddenly it has personality! Admittedly that personality is, "shit, I've got a personality, what the fuck do I do now?!" To be fair, that's probably better than being a shit bit of rock.
October 11, 2025 at 12:51 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I'm very suggestible and will point a camera at pretty much anything for pretty much anyone. I filmed a hedgehog for @romgothsam.bsky.social the other day because I saw the hedgehog and thought, "Sam will want to see the hedgehog!"
October 11, 2025 at 11:40 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Been walking in the rain. Gloomy photos for @braegrosz.com because I can.
A concrete path slick with rain runs through a landscape of bright green grass and deep green trees with weathered bark. Spiky shrubs pierce the foreground, while grey clouds glow ominously in the sky. If you follow the path, you'll walk into the storm. Deep green, almost black, conifer leaves reach across the top left corner of a landscape. Grassy paddocks reach towards either side of a curving river, their cropped grass fading into wildness as they approach the water. Trees scrabble upwards from the horizon, and the sky looks cold and grey above. A small hillock of verdant grass is home to two trees. Between them, if you stand in just the right place, you can look out over the river below. The water curves around bright green grassy earth, and trees of various shades of green join branches to mark the horizon. The sky, however, tumbles grey and menacing above the landscape. The silhouette of a large old tree in its first tentative attempt at a new spring is silhouetted in the lower left corner of the image against a dark and uncompromising grey sky. Yes, there will be rain. The clouds will keep their promise.
October 11, 2025 at 8:44 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I spent ages trying to get this shot, and despite being taken on my phone camera and with more noise than I'd like, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
Against a velvet blue night sky, a cherry blossom tree in bloom extends its branches. Behind the scratching brown branches adorned with bright pink petals and the occasional green pop of leaves, two street lights shine brightly. One in the lower left corner, creating a circular lens flare of golden light, and one higher up and just left of centre with subtle rays of light extending diagonally. Spring attacks the night.
October 1, 2025 at 9:59 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Pale pink blossom petals stick wetly to a large puddle, discarded in clumps on mud and concrete. Bursts of green grass try and gather the petals. The wetness of the ground reflects the outline of a tree, a silhouette adorned by floral litter. Against a bright grey sky, the stretching winding reaching twisting silhouette of a large tree. Its leaves cascade downwards like scratch marks on silver. In an alleyway with moss lined walls, nature had a party and you weren't invited. On the wet black asphalt, the confetti of discarded vegetation piles against the left wall. Bright yellow leaves, pink petals, leaves holding onto their greenness, leaves turned orange on their way to decay, and the underlying black brown of rot. A bright grey sky, with the silhouette of the tops of three trees reaching almost halfway up. The trees have scant leaf cover, instead winding their way upwards like the nerves or blood vessels of a sinister organism.
October 1, 2025 at 9:29 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Today it was rainy and grey and gloomy, so I went for a walk in the damp and took some lovely dreary photos for @braegrosz.com
The ghost of a leafless tree reflected in the wet footpath. The concrete is dotted with lichen, giving the tree eerie blossoms that only exist in the puddles. Rain mists a row of trees. A path to the left, curbing gently. A large evergreen tree to the right of the path. Smaller trees to the right of the evergreen, holding on to their new leaves and signalling a barrier - take the path. In the distance, trees that dance with the mist. Rainslick rocks in the foreground, rainslick rocks mounding the bend in the river. Someone placed them there in case of flooding. On the opposite shore, trees line green pasture. Whipping wild grasses, gold and brown and dead looking, thrust upwards from the rocks. The river is moving fast, threatening to roar. Straggling struggling trees, tall with the first green of spring, make a living wall to tell you where the path is no longer a path. To their left, a concrete path shining wetly in the rain, bordered by grass that is mostly weeds if you look closely. The gap in the trees tells you where the path ends. The sky is bright grey.
October 1, 2025 at 9:18 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I picked out the gloomiest ones just for you... Winter in Aotearoa also brings spectacular golden hour light and most of my dreary season photos are actually beautifully lit and colourful. I should try harder to be gloomy, it's good for the soul.
Papaioea river walk, golden hour evening light in late winter in the Hokowhitu pines. Tall pine trees with whispering green needles look down upon the angled empty trunks of fallen comrades. The grass and moss are too too green in the evening sun. Probably if you follow the lush and sunlit path you will end up Somewhere Else.
September 28, 2025 at 11:08 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Drear by proxy.
Late winter/early spring along the river walk in Papaioea. Dusk, crisp air, and soft shadows cradle a concrete path framed by rows of straight leafless wintering trees. Yet the grass and moss is verdant. Leafless winter trees are silhouetted against a cloudy grey sky, framing the merest hint of the apricot bruise of sunset. Night steals into the late winter sky with the promise of warmer days. Reaching rooting branching skeletal botanical tree ghosts in Wai-O-Tapu thermal area in Taupō. Late autumn and grey on grey, the ghosts might be ghosts or the soft breath of rain. Grey skies, grey waters, greying vegetation. Green clings stubbornly to the edges, but winter promises mist and the clouds are already frowning. You could climb out on a branch and dip your fingertips in the water, but Wai-o-Tapu will eat the pink from your fingers.
September 28, 2025 at 10:46 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Crawling out of my hole after being sick and miserable, #PoemsAbout seems like a good excuse to rejoin the world.

We say #NeverAgain and it made me think of the war this country waged on its own children, and how the generational hurt that caused.

@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
September 26, 2025 at 3:21 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I'd like to thank insomnia for today's #PoemsAbout #Riot

@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
Spiralling by Dorian David Leigh – Scream Again and again and again you twist my calm and force me to need you but I am not this person and neither are you but I am this person and so are you completely trapped in me trapped in you trapped in me caught flesh in flesh brought bone to bone to climax dipping my scars into your teeth sear the cocktail taste on your tongue Molotov tongued cock's demanding explosion short fused hips fusing lips scraping concrete beneath heavy boots curb stomp affection into the gutter grimed erections grind cigarette butts to ashes crashing wall after wall after wall collapsing into a riot of you lashing out with heat and hate and need and need and need I want to –
August 29, 2025 at 9:13 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Time to share What I Did For My Birthday.

Let's all agree that we won't tell my mother.
Close up image of a wrist, tattooed with the words, "I'm Still Here," in cursive script.
August 28, 2025 at 5:00 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Sneaking in my #PoemsAbout #Chandelier at the last minute, before I (hopefully) finish tomorrow's one.

@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
Upset Piece by Dorian David Leigh Do you dream of me in black and white? Does your gaze become / unslick / diffused back through the / halo / cracked lens of a broken / camera strange / blues fuzzed grey and silent / by California / Dreaming / paper fragments mimic the / stars shattering / my skin leaving / scars / tasting wide open damp / legs clamped round the waist of your / ghost / craving soft / light / frost given crushes / moan / moon and June / stuff into your mouth / open / lips / switchblade hips fuck / cruder doom / stuff / boning / skin / skinning torn down / eyes / off empty walls / stare Art Deco / backlit fractures / glass / slivers finger shivers burrow into my / spine / back / lot dusted gloss shines unlit / split lip / facets / illuminate bloodsoaked sheets / stain / an absence of you / in / my arms / Technicolor vivid / limbs / saturated / hips / imprisoned spectrums of you cascading / blue / disappear into a prism of your / eyes / degrading / fading to Black and white, do you dream of me?
August 28, 2025 at 2:36 PM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Continuing the tradition of Elijah dressing up for the annual #RtG @romgothsam.bsky.social conference, here's this year's costume. Theme is M R James #WarningToTheCurious, so sheet ghost it is.
A Shih Tzu dressed as a sheet ghost. A Shih Tzu dressed as a sheet ghost, slumping adorably and dumpling the ghost costume.
August 23, 2025 at 10:45 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Getting properly stuck into @romgothsam.bsky.social 's annual conference, #WarningToTheCurious

Fantastic panel about wells, lighthouses, and stained glass.

Here's Elijah at a lighthouse for all the RtG people.
A dog (an old gold and white Shih Tzu) stands in front of an old lighthouse on a bright sunny day. The sky is intensely blue, the lighthouse is straight and white, harakeke (NZ flax) bushes spike the background. The dog is very cute and very happy.
August 23, 2025 at 10:35 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Went for a walk. Saw several white basket fungi. They might be my favourite. #FungiFriends
A white basket fungus: pale, crinkled, organic latticed in an oval shape. It sits atop soft green moss and slips of liverwort. Tiny sprouts of plants-to-be shoot from within its cage.
August 16, 2025 at 7:26 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Here's my #PoemsAbout #Ceasefire contribution for this week.

Taking a break from my regular themes and unhealthy coping mechanisms, because there was no way this wasn't going to be political.

@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

#PoetryForPalestine (more of it under this tag)
Unextinguished By Dorian David Leigh Israel knows how to decease A vessel of flesh but not how To cease the fire that burns Within the olive groves and Stones and bones and poets And martyrs and broken hearted People who sing to their homeland From afar and hear it yearn for Their weary voices to return The fire of Palestine will always burn
August 15, 2025 at 11:04 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Ka rawe te mahi a toikupu!

I love the subtle undercurrent of grief here, of the cyclical nature of longing and reaching out, the connection between pōhutukawa and wairua. This reads like a living bridge growing between worlds at the pace of a seed sprouting into a tree, of slow hope building.
A single pōhutukawa flower, red and vibrant, against a backdrop of deep green leaves and white clouds in a blue summer sky.
August 9, 2025 at 10:34 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
Not on time for Friday, but less late than last week. #PoemsAbout #BlackSky for @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk

Not too sure about this one, I might gut it for parts, but I like the way some of the words tumble into each other and those parts were fun to write.
Special, Occasionally by Dorian David Leigh Another concrete birthday Spread out on the table Ragged gluttonous bite Size knife size sugar mansions Overlooking back lots overcooked Sweet spots to be seen but Never tasted Platters named after Saints Communion wasted wafer thin Starlit starlets garnish a touch But don't look Feast Make a wish hiss your lips Kiss the air to blow a Blackout rolling from sleek bars Sterile boutiques through Skyscrapers shopping screenplays On spec to the wrong side Of the tear tracks clearing Dust from my cheeks The city on the table between us Goes dark beneath a popcorn Ceiling sky a try But don't buy Feast (continued next image) You static back lit flicker Your way impolite to Swipe buttercream off the Hollywood sign soft Lips pink licking broken Dreams from your loaded Fingertip sending me Thudding stone denting Matted shagpile I fall Floorwards crawl forwards Hands meeting lips Beating hips crash fleeting Into cathode ray hubris When the power cuts you Open a slit But don't quit Feast If wishes come true The darkness dared me to Feast On you
August 9, 2025 at 8:19 AM
notdoriangray.bsky.social
I said I'd post this one even though it's late: #PoemsAbout #Starcrossed for @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

Hopefully the next one will be posted on time.

Going to go read some of the others I missed.
Cum / Death / Welcome by Dorian David Leigh I can't stand the touch of skin. I demand your flesh descend / give me my sin / again / by your lips I am purged / of pretty words that fuck your mouth / declare desperation’s pulsing / end / down your throat Is it obvious I killed the man I want to fuck? You have your star you name / in lights / I have my / cross / to bear while tempting / Saints / have holes that pilgrims dream to dare / that’s / how I tear you from the heavens / cross your heart hope to die a death of / you / in me / or me in / you Is it obvious I fucked the man I want to kill? Sucking chest wounds clinging / wet / hearts forgetful of their / place / seeking grace to escape our / grasping / tangled ribs exposed clasping bone to bone / gasping for air I smile on every / stroke / that murders me I think I made you up inside my head If you won't / pretend / you love me then / I will / a pair of knifecrossed lovers twist the stars / tear scars from magazines / kiss crosses over my / eyes / to mark me dead I do the / same / in pen / in bloodied cherry red / and in the end I’m kissing you Alive or dead or inbetween in bed
August 6, 2025 at 1:28 PM