November 2011
9 posts
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Read a Poem
Read a poem advising me to practice losing things. I started with my watch (shoved it good and proper down the back of my bed), moved onto the lighter for the cooker (put that sucker somewhere safe), my black and white scarf (I left in a pub), an umberella (in a shop), a telephone number (was kept in my lost phone left on a bus on the way to a meeting held at the ‘Seven Wounds of...
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Under-the-ground commuter
I’m a commuter.
I move in step with the person in front of me.
I walk up the stairs bending my leg when I see the person in front of me bend theirs. I take their cue to lift my trousered leg up. I am a commuter. The people I touch I will never see again, women in all their beauty stand within a hair’s breadth and I look through them, they are ghosts like me. We are not here but...
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What would happen if saving the planet from...
All those crowds cheering for solutions, the airplay and debates about strategies and mistakes. The Wags all being papped as their men build self sustaining environments, get drunk, have tattoos and sleep with other women. The difficult conversations in pubs about; penalties and fouls, sending offs, the type of shoes their team should have used to create an ergonomic cityscape which would decrease...
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