Viktor was facing A railway viaduct An elongated thoughtBegan to trouble him As he could see Rats drowning In the river sewer Viktor was very tall And stooped a little He was aware of this And it embarrassed him

Hollow in its echos The city was hot Unusually hot Its colours Had not Faded

I frequently see Black Nomads Passing my wilderness In the desert Of my dreams

We often visit The Old English Fort When we return from a swim Our clothes dry On the peaceful battlements Whist we relax in the sun It is a pleasant way To pass an afternoon

These are the end of days When the summer fades Whilst wearing her finest dress I have just collected Two red stone pebbles In celebration of the sinking sun

This small dusty book contains a poem Written by a slave owner and is an account Of the execution by hanging of one of his slaves Who was accused of brutally raping A white woman in her own house It was written just over two hundred years ago And is a fine and moving poem…

I once owned a large slave ship At that time I was married to a white mermaid It was during one of these dark voyages That I was told about the black mermaids Who could be found in the southern seas I kept a look out for many years Without meeting Any of these alluring…

See that guy over there Which one The guy selling the sunglasses What about him His name is Felix And he has been selling sunglasses There in front of the hotel For forty six years How do you know My father remembers him He looks pretty ancient That is because he is ill Is it…

I recognised an extra in the latest James Bond movie I worked with her some years ago in a small office She appears in two scenes And then vanishes She is not seen again

A tiger stalks its prey in my zen garden But finds no vulnerable creatures The tiger is careful to avoid the coloured glass Which I collected from the promenade mosaics There is also glass from automobile accidents Which is larger but less colourful Than the other decorations