This is what seventy years of nature Does to an abandoned railway track It seems like the country air has been sucked From a once pristine chalk cutting The nearby field betrays its archaeology A pattern of parallel ridges and troughs Caused by years of prolonged ploughing These were ghostly long before the railway arrived…

I was sitting a distance away Looking directly into The white bright sun You were near the tide line Your features quite blurred I could see that you Were wearing my shades Tracey Phillips Full of Love

Red should be in Bed I said to Hazel in the Shed I would not be seen Dead In this decaying shed Fred And that is the Gospel Truth

I collect amethysts Hidden in rocks Which I needlessly find Whilst beachcombing On rare days of beauty

Like ice rusting in the gutter My life was unravelling at speed His train was vanishing from my day Leaving only a distant vacancy

The locusts finished us off They slowly destroyed Our golden corn fields And smothered the butterflies Until no beauty remained

I fell into the sea today But there was no sea So I went down With A Thump Andy Thump shared My girlfriend with me We often travelled To Alum Bay together To sea how glass lighthouses Were created using just sand Our girlfriend was very happy With our coastal arrangements

Likes cotton dresses Floppy hats The Olive Skin Of Mediterranean Girls François Villon Arthur Rimbaud and Tiny Tim Walking barefoot In busy cities Small bears dressed As French railway officials Robert Redford as Sundance And iced grapefruit drinks On hot summer days

I own a dance studio Run by a legless musician I dislike wheelchairs Clogging up busy streets So I have invented The square wheel Why are some races Far more beautiful than others Why do dwarves Have odd shaped heads Answers on a postcard please I have a Chinese girlfriend Who I love very much…

To suffer in silence As a boy poet Writes on my naked back I am his latest collection Which has been submitted Towards a literary prize He likes my breasts But thinks my bum Is too big for me To go very far in France I must stop picking up boy poets On Cross Channel…