confessions are self-serving

Tag: travel


The streets are rivers
which we navigate like short-sighted salmon,
picking an uneasy path, making slow progress-
faces rushing upwards like images in a dream;
Arabic noses, coarse beard hair,
black lipstick, a pulsing bosom
beneath a black top pulled taut,
knee length leather boots, hot salted beef
slurping on brown lips, a catch of hot grease
heavy air, fried meat, potatoes, garlic, caraway,
cardamom, sweet, sickness.
A level cut fringe dark above oriental eyes
so sincere, and prim school kids, flushes of racing green,
navy blues, schools of scuffed shoes, laces, velcro,
dainty fingers fashioning drag-like make-up,
a little arrogance in their numbers,
a little bravado in the boys, eager to prove,
nothing to lose,
an open palm, caramel, approaches,
spare change, spare change, he says
a man sitting on a flattened box in rags,
a simple sign at his feet,
a pathetic collection of coins,
one milky marble in a dark socket,
the other eye downcast, reverent,
as if in prayer.

Regular John

Known not to rhyme every line but

when handling mandarins he damages egos

of show-boating masters toting

silk-cut toking cloaked loathsome


Some say the fruit is too fragile for the show to go

outside where fists meet bones and phones find homes, still

sucking on a beer left for lent

(three pounds and ninety-eight pence spent)

you can’t lose with quick food

said the fella he met at the urinal

like finding a suit on good friday for your own funeral

im poss ib le

He has to prove the drive-thru is not a challenge for a man

of his stature, don’t despair, remain austere, order:

one cheeseburger please no pickles patron…

All fed up now a silhouetted clown frowns and dances forwards

searching for a snooze partner fe or male

his sleeping bag tent wards genst sleet snow hail

eyes puffed up fluffy as a bunny tail –

one tear


down one cheek

do it all again next week.