Poet & reviewer, born in !958 in Accrington. Based in Manchester, England. Published widely, including the collections Calling Myself On The Phone (Smith/Doorstop, 2003) and Travelator (Salt 2007, www.saltpublishing.com) Poems published on the net and in magazines. Have worked as a teacher of creative writing, as a mentor to African writers via the British Council's Crossing Borders project) and have read my poems from Manchester to Johannesburg in everything from libraries to bars to offices. Interests: avant garde poetry, abstract/surrealist art, jazz (modern) and walking round the city.
From: TRAVELATOR: RANDOM SONNETS EURO '96 The largest toilet wall in Europe Happiness is the first coffee of the morning Then bang The post-box stood guard by the blasted van Cordon off your heart with scene-of-crime tape Do the weekly shop then home to the news Later no-one died The sky was Yves Klein blue It's OK if I were to blow up anywhere it would be Make the world a safe place for shopping Where is that I was going to get a haircut but I think I'll wait till I know the score Let's stand round barriers refusing to move on. Am I the only one didn't hear the bang Bandaged heads Did us all a favour That morning I was in a supermarket My how we've scrubbed up since GEOCENTRIC Locked out daily pockets full of coins for the slots where does the sun sleep when it slopes off at night One slice of bacon tomato and a rubber egg does he eat his lunch off the world's flat plate Still, the forecast rain is holding off but do you fall into space when you reach the horizon Weather talk round the breakfast room lashings of where do you fall to when you're over the edge toast and porridge the consistency of warm mud Is the world really as flat as this town full of kiss-me-quick gulls and the skrike of salt will we swim out too far then drop out of sight The penny arcades have opened their doors do the lights in the sky revolve around me HAROLD WILSON Then who’s that stepping off his plinth like a man on his way to work who strode all the way to Huddersfield My father came back for all the world like a man out to buy his tobacco to stuff in his little slot machine As if he had a purpose in life his hair was black as a peppercorn They’re making a film about cops by the statue of our ex-PM the theme from Z-cars in my ears I stroll past to write this down From Eccles he came his skin was hard though his heart was soft and ate whatever was put on his plate. TRAVELATOR Will passengers have their boarding cards ready Changes of clothes books pen in my pocket the quandaries No Sharps Allowed Suitcase packed we enter a new country singing If tears were a staircase Does this pavement move on forever I’m a man it’s my job to be wrong Love ends The sky is Yves Klein Blue at the terminal I’m lost in the map of veins Last Chance to Buy We’ll take our coffee in the American Cafe Then we fold it all up and put it away. To my heart girl you give me such trouble stepping on a moving pavement on a mission to depart I carry Lunch Poems around THE ALL-PURPOSE STARS Someone’s behaviour is bothering a significant other Try not to rescue everyone today It’s a day for keeping You might be in a silly mood but it feels like you’re stuck in quicksand. A great day for haircuts kicking arse if you’re feeling stuck with some ache you need to tiptoe like a fairy round Someone in your life has a bee in their bonnet where what’s not out in the open is the tendency to blurt strange truths at the wrong moments The way through is to think about the future beyond Something hidden will pop out Careful.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
GHOST TRAINS ON THE MIDDLEWOOD WAY (20/02/2014)
FRONT ROOMS: AS ESSAY (23/12/2011)
Prayer Text (05/06/2011)
Breakfast Roll (13/03/2011)
BackChat poetry/jazz project (17/02/2011)
No Call for It (11/11/2010)
The Word No Is A Long Sentence (24/10/2010)
Surfaces May Be Slippery (22/10/2010)
Incident Tape (21/10/2010)
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