Thursday, 18 September 2008


Full of dragging ideas, like clouds
Yoda weeps in the tin locker room
Like you, he can’t make any moves

Snow White is in the car park
Peering through a greasy window
Watching crack heads eating Weiner Schnitzels

Dreadful pop bands are taking over the world
Dracula has grown a moustache
Torsos of the departed quietly float through rooms

There’s nothing better than a bee on a pink flower

This morning a bottle of bright yellow shampoo
Actually told me to ‘Get with the programme’

Sunday, 14 September 2008


Goodbye David Foster Wallace and thanks for all those great stories.

Saturday, 13 September 2008

Shane Jones's Hairy Hands

Reading Shane Jones's Hairy Hands (Greying Ghost) was most enjoyable. It was like looking at a freshly painted windowsill or something.


Frankfurters listen to music
Blinking in the bright light
There is a photograph of time,
Wearing nothing but a leather mask

She laughed at me
I was in a rabbit costume,
At a birthday party
Hundreds of small animals
On bicycles rode by

Later, a white cat
Played a silver guitar
On the streets
In the slow grey rain

Outside the Chinese supermarket
He played for his fantastic audience

Pink Cloud Boy