Gritting my teeth, I can begin to admit
I have been struggling
In the first half of this year
I got bruised by my own undoing
Whittled so brittle
On cold spring afternoons

And you have been a salve
The gentle warmth of a grounded voice
Through cheap headphones
Brimming with sweet greetings
Quick with earthy encouragements
Easing me down cracked pavements

Your presence, your message...

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In you swoop, with your skeleton key
Your well-thumbed dictionary
And your careful schooling
Giving labels to vague sensations
Giving names to my complications
Inking in the pencil sketch
Of my loose understanding
Of these ancient inner workings

Your delicate hands, so skilfully
Unspooling films that I’ve been censoring
I rush to scramble the combination
But you come with title cards ...

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Writing a character reference
for a friend
for someone I thought I knew
to mitigate their crimes
to ease them on their future journey
humbled, kneecapped and sore
Two thoughts spring to mind…

What good have they done
and how can it be expressed
Were they always the first to lend a hand
were they always there for those in need
Which of their actions
should I recall and paint in colour
...

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As young men, we ran through this town
chasing the madness
at the bottom of every bottle
and the warmth of teenage smiles
honeyed with the promise
of new experience

Spinning from bar to bar, pushing the limits
of our bodies capacity for self-destruction
and regeneration
snow melting from our clothes
as we sat and drank and laughed
in the Christmas evening air

Tonight, we’re trying ...

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Those stories we swap
in the heat of the night
Those secrets we share
on the cool mattress springs
Beyond the ears of the world
the prying eye of the sun
that’s where you’ll feel
our friendship in full flight

In real life
In real life

Those laughs that catch us
loose and disarmed
in a parked car at the riverside
Those conversations deep
that push through to the bone
binding our ...

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The sweetest memories hang
like negatives
in the dark room of my mind
I develop them occasionally
picturing again 
more exciting times

Yellows and browns begin to wash
across the leaves outside my window
I haven’t seen you in the flesh
since those shoots were new
it feels so long ago

We ran through those streets
as if we owned them
spinning endlessly from bar to bar
from joke to ...

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The way I write…
I brainstorm twenty titles
words or phrases
that sound good to me
that subconsciously
already feel like parts of me
then I refine them
and refine them
pile them up around my feet

And when I’m in the mood to write
I’ll either start writing
(with aim or aimlessly)
until I get stuck
then I grab a title
work it in the lock
release whatever’s hidden
(and it feels good...

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We all hate the government
but what can you do 
just drink in the evening sun
talking with old friends

A little place I know
when our graft is done
we go…

Cobbled streets, thin passageways
snaking pipes embrace the buildings
in the shadow cast by evening sun
standing with good friends

A little place I know
let’s grab a bus
and go…

Who voted 'leave', not one man here
I'll sta...

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Ruins loom, undressed 
in the space between here and then
what life still clings to them 
hangs loose and bellowing

Ruins stand their ground
battered by crosswinds
shifted perspectives, altered light
shadows lengthen and diminish

I tried to be good
did what I could, spinning plates 
painted with faces
of all the friends that came to me

Now there are absences
and there are ruins
...

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