You don’t really stay here; a hotel is a place at which you arrive and from which you depart.
Poetry
Three Poems
They told you stand barefoot, the cool grass
spreading for the soles of your feet; weight
Two Poems
It’s not that he’s too old, he just doesn’t want it,
the practice being enough and sometimes
making the cut. Top half of the leader-board
The Children’s Story
The Tree reading in the street: ‘The Frome children, who all even the boys bore the names of flowers, were making a trifle …
Two Poems
Those spacious months when we lived
continents apart, pens were back in,
our letters made days more bearable.
