At last

My market
Rated
No advantage
Existence

Harsh and
We made
It in the
Big Smoke

Don’t like that?

Is there an issue
With this one?

Journalism

‘Because, you’re the sort
Of person
Who should …’

And I say
Fuck ‘em

That’s how I got here
With blurred eyes
Naked

The Artist

Screaming either:
I'm different
or
I'm normal

--

Avoid embarrassment
Sometimes.

It is better to google
Than to blog

Bury your antlers
Deep.

The land is ours

Directorate/
Secretariat

Beige ironies
Unfold before
The Stage:

Residents
Squaters
Activists
Reporters

This is our land
Our history
Our culture

Play un bel di
To the nocturnal Fight

This is closing
Time

Bas-relief

Shake history
Limestone
From the marky
Gravehead

This is the legacy
Of the 19th home
Built environment.
Century - Golden
And the steed of
Mechanical progress
Twixt skin:

It looks like a cruise liner
An alpine lodge;
Nothing I have ever seen
Here

Roman, barbarian
Huguenot, trader.

I am eyes

Warmth

Over the barrel vaulted
Eaves, sink deep
In the vested
Come street-lined
Fields
Endeavour

She whispered back at
Me from the
Crenelated tier
Of the causeway

Gasometer
Thames Reach
Cadogan pier.

Something's right

Something's right
We're in!
At the centre
Of ourselves:
Merchandising (even)
Apart of upkeep
Or request.
It just makes sense.

--

I (fabric) feel wrong
So stuck outside
Something to learn?
Literature to teach me?
Always looking for attention
Approval, and scared
Of approbation.

Happen

The serrated spies
Aren't naked
Like my thoughts

Nice rainbow;
But
Does it have planning permission?

Some people dressed their stalls
And others
Just left their clothes
And made a pile
Lucky dip (£1 a go)

Everything must

August in London

The Lord is passing
Freedom
I look up to see his wings
Lord Balfour
Plan me a river that sings

The children of BBC
Lament: Great Culture
Is left to Edinburgh