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,Continue reading “Another Tube Poem: Tunnel Days”

Every morning, because it’s wonderful to watch

scrumpled dashes dots and lines between the tracks 09:33 2 mins until the train arrives for Kennington via Charing + On the tracks far from my reach the scrumpled ball of paper speaks: I am a poem between the tracks. — I am quite conscientious about dating my scribbles and working notes. It is aContinue reading “Every morning, because it’s wonderful to watch”