It’s 26 degrees such in Brighton my mate has just texted me
Limbo in a Robinson’s pub, abolished or not
A totem to tiny dancing flies.
Ravens and stones on the road to Athens
Where the tarmac took the skin from my knee,
i still feel something move that shouldn’t
Music with either the overpowering heat or the snow
in the background changes the meaning of the gig
Smoke twisted in the Raven’s eyes. The dove laughed while the hawk sharpened his talons
and through the window Glen Campbell ponders a small vacation..
No, I don’t use drugs the poet responded, unless you count words as my drugs.
Grim but good disco all night
in the circle of poets no-one knew where to begin or where to end.
On a night that London is one degree cooler than Cairo
It’s madness! I need a nightboat to Cairo….
Homeric accents in demotic Starbucks.
