Manchester
[Written 23.5.17] I woke you from your hot nest of sleep; I had hardly taken in the headline. One kiss, and I slip back to my bed To hear grave tones of shellshock and shrapnel Refusal to despair. The low … Continue reading
[Written 23.5.17] I woke you from your hot nest of sleep; I had hardly taken in the headline. One kiss, and I slip back to my bed To hear grave tones of shellshock and shrapnel Refusal to despair. The low … Continue reading
A fallen star Has landed on his bedroom floor Sickly, luminous green, Dead in the daylight. I pick it up With some scraps of scribbled paper, A broken rubber band, and Some tat from a party bag. Above, there is … Continue reading
All hail the mid-range hotel, In all its reasonably priced imperial purple glory. The crisp cleanliness of its cutout rooms; Those icons of art: The large flower, and The abstract woodland. Windows are sealed for our comfort and safety, Ineffable, … Continue reading
And then, one day, he was gone. And all his tubes were gone, and his tissues, And his petulant but forgivable demands. And she could clean behind his chair: Cobwebs, dropped spoons, creased and ancient magazines. She could go off … Continue reading
We spent the weekend in a field in Warwickshire, learning. Wouldn’t it be lovely if university courses consisted of living in the open air, eating halloumi and pomegranate wraps, and attending engaging and interactive lectures where the seating was bales … Continue reading
There’s pain behind those vacant eyes As brick by brick the walls come down Their guts spewed out and packed away To empty shops across the town. Ragged doorways, toothless screaming Barred by scaffold, gagged by tarp. Urban renewal rips … Continue reading
from The Mask of Anarchy, by Percy Bysshe Shelley ‘Rise like Lions after slumber In unvanquishable number— Shake your chains to earth like dew Which in sleep had fallen on you— Ye are many—they are few.’
On Sunday My muscles were pounded Until they crackled and spluttered And sprung back into tight coils And at mile 12, one of them went pop. My fat thighs Rubbed a raw arc of pain Notional until I stopped running, … Continue reading