I call Stuart Miller (Phillip Le Brock) the greatest living author because I think he is. I do not call him a poet because he has never written a poem; he even dislikes poetry, I think. But everything he has written is a poem in the best as well as in the broadest sense of […]

You really look daft Phillip Come again Sitting there writing again On your ornate wooden chair I am in my apartment with two whores They are working girls I have paid them both Am I your whore Only when you want to be We have always been fuck friends Why are you not wearing any […]

Your book Yes Danny and Danielle were resting On the wooden floor of their apartment Covered only by a thin duvet Why have you not added to this opening Because I am tired Do you have a structure in mind What will they do next Why are they on the floor of their apartment When […]

A painter must work for the taste of his own day. How does he know what people will like two or three hundred years hence? I maintain that a man should hold up the mirror to his own times. John Everett Millais As I entered your house This was framed above your door Why do […]

When I forget my waterproof coat It only rains when I talk to the scruffy sheep Who live in front of All Saints church My father sleeps there next to the wall I have not seen him for over thirty years There are some military graves harsh white Near to where I am standing today […]

John Keats once said this about the English weather He described it as like Lydia Languish Very entertaining when it smiles But cursedly subject to sympathetic moisture My name is Lydia Languish I know but I must correct you As your name is now Lydia Low We shared our name on marriage Then you should […]

Almost forgotten by history This short lived but loathsome woman Was known by other names The Strangler of Vienna The Strangling Angel That is all that I will record As my pen does not have the hunger…

the most complete views of heaven can be seen from high hills of hell

In some versions of the story Daedalus and Icarus escaped by ship But no ship has passed this headland In over sixty years which dilutes these tales

Do not fly too low over the water Or fly too close to the sun Those were the instructions of Daedalus It was only when the Spanish Boy Left St Stephens that I took notice of this warning Which was of course too late As I had drowned in the bay I was buried by […]