The killer whale that hit sharp at Leicester Square

It’s a little uncanny that my current writing and the archive posts are showing parallel topics. Last week the new poem inspired by music echoed the archive poem written during a jazz concert (six years ago!). This week, quite by coincidence, it’s work generated on London’s Underground. From this time last year, the archive yields another tube poem. “On the Way to

Spring returns

“In an English Spring-Time” is often well received at readings. Last month I made a visit to Cambridge with a friend. (No, not the same person of the poem.) At my request we sought out the shop that sells the amazing Chelsea buns. I now have the establishment’s name. It is Fitzbillies. Their buns are

Interior Holdings

A turn to the inside, draws out liquorice laces, long and sweet to suck and chew; This turn to the inside locates in other corners of the paper-layered drawer small tacks of past stings — Scheduling a poem every day for a month (from 18 Jan. to 19 Feb.) made me feel impressively productive. Now

On the way to Westminster

A blast! A work of genius! Was the killer whale that hit sharp at Leicester Square. It swam in from Morden via Bank trawling on the High Street with all the hours in the world provide daffodils at 80p/bunch and such sensational warming relief. 6/6/2013 — A poem for you on this sunny Thursday morning.

In an English spring-time

to me there be daffodils, bluebells, crocuses, forget-me-not in this English spring-time rain cold from bluer sunlit skies showers occasional drop heavy hail bringing back snow, cold sunlight white yet in blue will bloom green to summer 2004, Cambridge — This poem features in my recently published (first) volume of poetry.  I write in my