Woodlice We overlook them like the early symptoms of a disease, or the daily minutiae we disregard; dirt under our finger nails. Last night, exposed by the outside light, I...

      Here Before my eyes haze blunts the air a thin woman purses   her lips coffee steams, Desire demands more lifting eyes up a blue sheen exotic figures dancing to the sun’s strum...

Salt worker, Sečovlje    There is a point at which he leans and pauses, and the sun bleaches the edges from the salt pile, the wooden rake, the tracks and carts with their drapery of halite....

      I, Calluna am bog vegetation born from acid like to be grazed, invite burning. Kallunein I’m called, to sweep up, I have been a thousand besoms in my time. Each one of me  -...

      Poetry God The air is full with thick-rain, pavements an inch in rain -water runs into roads to the brim of the curb as trees drip like beach brollies where pigeons on a...

      Hectic Yes, dear, I know you are dizzy and if I could be your sweet cotton, I would make this world comfortable. I would be the barrier, the hedge, between cold dark earth and...

      The Stove i.m. Eleanor Grey The stove in the sunken classroom burns coke to a yellow glow, warming your storyteller’s murmur. St Wulfram’s spire chills the room, graves and...

      Blank Slate for Eric Lorberer A poem confronts itself. Why am I being written In this busy gallery laden With scattergun gaiety, soon- To-be forgotten gossip, No matter the...

      blind beggars on Ronnie Kray's funeral 1. The great madman, trapped in a headache, whizzed from weeds pulled out of the soil's bunting, a bouquet of red fire. Florid petals pour...