Writing Verse

why did it work on you?
never even mentioned it
when you smiled, laughed
at cruel humour –
touched your fingers
to my arm

Loch Earn

had I known, then? arriving
the breeze come burning
& guiding mighty storms from seas
I knew come shuddering drugs
& clenched the teeth to bite
the sleeping waters

Rouen

cigarettes & two words –
le bel! Le bel!
shouted over the water, momentary
madness our bondage
freed in chains, exultation free in
passionate strings;

Sparrows

she watches over
even the sparrows
you said
so why didn’t she watch over me
am I worth less than
the innocence of a bird

Chasers

lynched between the library & addictions
Miller exploded in me again; all God suddenly
eternal in the world
she couldn’t answer
she was the language
holy thoughts come rising in

Great Poets

for there to be successful writers,
commercial poets
great poets recording twisted skeletons
of the age – a scaffold of mediocre writers,
poets who call themselves poets;
beauty and analysis

Poetry

Coal Carthage

The bars of this cage, tightening nooses now; still Broken britain; legs & fluttering wings beneath scaled metal eyes twitching, humming lenses; glitter and stand resolute! wings blinking in nothing, rust against the wet night despite pleas of rattle-high footsteps ‘cross the cobblestones & the grass & the mud dirt.

The Tudor

Presented without comment, dedicated to memories and dreams. Such a strong vulnerability; like moonlight on the lighter as you try another cigarette, hoping, this time, to burn outin smoke and spittle the pure body of art; My beauties bled from between my lipsmixed...

Prose

Reading Dossie (Dream 13)

‘You know, the trouble with the whole cog in the machine kind of resignation is that it still justifies inactivity or, rather, a kind of distant activity. It suggests that your existence, that your continued servitude, is essential to the operation of all things; that...

Idiolect On The M6 (Dream 11)

Y’know, we started calling him St. Mina, cos’ of his long, morose face which adopted this weighed down, grey kind of look. His shoulders were slumped, like a scholar’s, and his hands moved in a heavy motion, turning the wheel like he was steering a cruise liner down...

Essays & Articles

5 Books I’m Glad I Read Before I Turned 23

So, in a very short period of time I’ll be 23. 23. 23 years old. Jesus Christ; even the idea of being that old makes me feel tired. Anyway, as I’m now a man of a certain age, it’s time for me to stop looking forward to the next five or six years I’ve got left on this...

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