The bees credit it as some point of luxury to be on the Tube

I have written a number of poems inspired by London commuting, including this surreal scene posted last year. Here are some others: On the Way to Westminster (a personal favourite) Trapped Items Tunnel Days Tube Sketch

Past Euston, 09:50

37 of us shuttled along as we sit or stand with our regular doors. They are the ones with which we enter Thursday morning in Zone 1. They are the ones where we could change here for Victoria Line. Too late to exit for Morden via Bank. Your regular doors can be dangerous. You could

Another Tube Poem: Tunnel Days

They who serve the suction of daybreak, beneath the earth, beneath the dew, beneath the kitchens where there’s burning toast and grapefruit, bury, with the morning light, their hope of hearing birdsong. — My commuting is less than a tenth of many who live and work in London. But when I am on the move,

Tube sketch (one of a few)

The man with the notebook draws attention. The woman alongside hum drops her Evening Standard to glance. Left-handed he is writing with a ballpoint in a Moleskine, A5-sized. Two page turners across from each other. — The poems this week centre around London and the ordinary, daily observations living in this metropolis offers. Our first