At a point of no return, love, intimacy,
shadowed by its counterpart.
A world had been calling attention to itself,
silent…
At a point of no return, love, intimacy,
shadowed by its counterpart.
A world had been calling attention to itself,
silent…
A poem reflecting a childhood in a West Cumbrian mining community.
A sheep skull, inserted to ward off evil spirits.
Have you heard of anything so evocative?
A gathering of anonymity.
Sameness stared out from under blackened brims.
Banksman, Bogyman, The Fu-Fu Gang…
I am
I am January – an anthology of backstreet pubs and lost poetry
I am February – writing stanzas on the inside of lavatory doors
I am March…