A Letter to Basquiat
Images juxtapose. Image is just a pose for those who wish to see it Impoverished young artist, paint spattered suit. Undercover bum, cardboard boxed in Central Park. Using the spoon in your mouth to...
Images juxtapose. Image is just a pose for those who wish to see it Impoverished young artist, paint spattered suit. Undercover bum, cardboard boxed in Central Park. Using the spoon in your mouth to...
Companions surrender ghostlike flesh Feeling Warmth Fading ember Breath Sculpted movement Exploring little cardboard minds Hard to find a heart as hardened – my bruiseless fingers reaching skyward Febrile hunger Clawing blind for air...
Poem Some students say they think I’m posh. I am nothing of the kind. I have learned to watch my lip. Breath, measured. Tongue, clipped. Pauses are well timed. My broad Luton drawl...
Poem Under the covers Clutching a torch with fading batteries Flickers of my past in the dark laughing back at me Each perfect picture’s a trick, it’s a tragedy I only exist as a...
Poem I don’t wanna be stuck in a routine, a Houdini who never escaped and suffocated over seven decades. What a way to go, eh? What a waste! I’d rather be kicked in the...