This is a selection of pieces from my first booklet of 'Notes'.
Enjoy them;
and if you would like a copy, just ask.
Next door I can hear murmured shouts
and the clink of bottles rubbing together
on concrete.
Sighs form solid from
my nose and mouth.
Numb fingers and cheeks.
Let's have an incident by the photocopier
as the pages flow out,
bright light humming across the glass plate my
pigeon-hole empty as always.
My pigeon-hole is like an old nest that fell out of a tree.
They are like trinkets I want to touch and keep.
It is difficult to reconcile.
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