On a meander

Let the line commence with a word other than I, the usual post to fence in paths that buoy and bob in hand-drawn bows and curving scythes: a writer’s promenade. — If I don’t write on lined-paper or have a guiding template sheet behind any blank page on which I write, my sentences will start

New ink cartridges

From one side of the pool to the other, pacific waves cursive; held by rocks hard-backed in blue. A visiting squid squirts ink fresh and black. A pseudomorph arrows from the nib. 26/06/2014 — For Christmas ‘Secret Santa’ gave me a dinky, frosted pink fountain pen. It’s small; probably about 8cm in length. Its micro-cartridges

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