Music
“TRY AGAIN. FAIL AGAIN. FAIL BETTER.”
Poetry
The garden
When we came here.
We cleared the sycamore trees that had taken root with the blind faith that trees must have
From indistinct and savage shapes we hewed a perfect rectangle
A burnt brown canvas on which to paint a history.
We cleared the sycamore trees that had taken root with the blind faith that trees must have
From indistinct and savage shapes we hewed a perfect rectangle
A burnt brown canvas on which to paint a history.
Scales
Just remember that when you weigh your words
You do so on your scales not mine
You do so on your scales not mine
The Windmill at Brixton
In Brixton
From the first days of my stretch
When some old lag
For want of conversation
Or introduction
Told me that no more than a stone’s throw from our cell
There stood a windmill
From the first days of my stretch
When some old lag
For want of conversation
Or introduction
Told me that no more than a stone’s throw from our cell
There stood a windmill
Murmurations
Black speck
On chalk white sky
A tiny fraction of a view
Wind blown and vacant to land upon the foreshore
Amongst dark bejewelled brethren
On chalk white sky
A tiny fraction of a view
Wind blown and vacant to land upon the foreshore
Amongst dark bejewelled brethren