across the bus
There's a girl across the bus and all I can see is yellow sleeves, white hands and a pound of silver rings
Are they the rings you put on every day, I don't ask, or do you choose the mood from a dish of a dozen
Topic
poem
A collection of 3 issues
my indulgences are earth, now
it's spring again and the plum blossom is dropping messy metaphors all over my walk.
I am at least a year older than I was this time last year and possibly more.
my indulgences are earth, now
time spent away from my desk
time spent more answering
time
a sonnet on capital, because why not
I'm far too old to say I don't fit in. I pay for music, have a favourite knife; I clean the shower tray and change the bin on Sunday nights - a regulated life.
I'm far too rich to say I don't belong.