I’m losing it.maybe I’ve lost it.I’ve had it and maybeit’s gone. it’s gonefor tonight.poems just comingshopping lists.bread and new eggs.butter and milk.outside the tramsmake machinery noiseswith their bracketsto overheadwires like goosenecks bent down.outside people talk,drunk already,on their way to getdrunker on capel st.it’s a good part of the cityfor poems you’d think. you’d thinkand most... Continue Reading →
I lost it twice half-finishedin paperback on trains in north america.
some emergency;I've been called into work. it's 7a.m. on this finesunday morningand the streets look like christmas treesthe second week of january. Read More in Poetry
drinking my teafor what comfort it brings me,I stand by the windowwatching this half-hearted quarantine.beneath me, the riverruns with white clouds,its rippled alternativeof black against silverlike light in the morningcatching a badly scratchedfrying pan.there are people aboutand cars wandering, though I must admitthere are fewer than usual;a black fragmentof burned bacon, submergedin what’s left of... Continue Reading →
