In 1994 I was living on Hornsey Road, North London, evolving into a poet,deep at work on my first collection. On Tuesday evenings I'd go to the Islington poetry workshop on Blackstock Road to share work and critique. One night I came home to news that my grandmother had died in Trinidad.Desafinado is dedicated to her.
Excerpts
The art of Ageing
my brother dennis
became a father first
last friday
he called collect
from five rivers
i wept
a cold sweat
wet
at the best news
i’d heard all year
dennis laughed
i laughed
we laughed
like children
on my bedroom wall hangs
a time stained monochrome
of finger sucking innocence
it even smells
of 1970
of toy trucks
of mud
of saliva
coconut oil
talcum powder and now
dennis says
write me
i say
send me
some photographs
View From A Lost Weekend
alone
in a field
where lovers lie
i carve
stones
into daffodils
dirt
into ink
words
scattered
as daffodils lie
like lovers
in a field of daffodils
Clark Boots
Clark boots rung
from beige garbadine bells
train set coiled
in a cardboard box
sittin' on topada press
an'albert
tall to me
grins like a flat cap
puts the train back
with a father's stretch
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