took a stroll out onto the longsands. tried to make a wish, tried to make myself a plan. found a pebble it had a hole right through. wrote a poem. gonna send them both to you. now, it may mean something or nothing much to you - but, girl, i can imbue it … Continue reading a poem & a pebble.
When I saw you last, talking too fast, with your Gauloises & your Cola - well, it just makes you look older to me. It was dark in there, yes, I know. But I swear it said Bay City Rollers on that scarf wrapped round your neck & shoulders. Were you feeling cold, dear? … Continue reading Piccolo Knives.
Teasing out a tune from a borrowed horn, in a rented room, in Kreuzberg. I breathe in the perfume of the afternoon - I taste bottled beer and oranges. The shadows rise as the sunlight falls. The sparrows in the scaffold sing. In 10962. Two punks sitting on a painted wall - … Continue reading Postcard From Kreuzberg.
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