i only know the knees of my female friends which is a little odd but completely understandable

I often sit at the piano Composing songs Whilst my family sleeps My father is a train driver And works shifts He is in Manchester at present My mother works in a small factory That makes green and black checked tape For the overseas markets I have a hole in my pyjamas And my tattoo…

When you stand in front of hidden buildings You will hear familiar songs That are silent elsewhere This is an advantage That should not be ignored

It is often noted that when examining the ancient graffiti In the Valencia Church That God is near This is attributed To the vertical light Of the polychrome tower

There is a church on the outskirts of Valencia that has a huge grey wall It is many hundreds of years old and remains unaltered For a short fee one can use a wooden hoist to travel upwards To examine the ancient graffiti that has recorded the years

Only those with experience should attempt this slope It has killed many angels before me But I will shatter my leg Before I learn     In 1953 Sylvia Plath broke her leg whilst skiing

I saw you from beneath the lush green terrace You were almost hidden from my view I called out to you from the lower path You raised your hand but did not turn

On the island next to the stars in the cold shadow of the moon I can just see the green lanes that occupy all my thoughts A flower drawn in silhouette was tattooed on to my arm many years ago It has faded over time but still imprisons me yet I admire its brave intimacy

I was swinging on a makeshift swing when I became blind When I say blind I do not mean totally blind as I could make out shapes within the blinding light I was told to jump off if the swing as there was a larger swing not far from me that was being ridden erratically…

I first saw you low over the flat canal A bird totally devoid of colour I asked you why you were now so plain You said that you were still full of vibrant hues And it was my corrupted gaze that was colourless