Jackson

I wake in the dusty light      to the deepcity cockcrow      of traffic and stair-thumping      housemates My bag’s by the wall My boots are on the floor My clothes are rumpled all over me I’m lying under a coat      I found up the road      and two thin throws that I wouldn’t      call blankets There’s empties on Read more

That man and I      were standing on the street      with a group of fellow artists      watching a performance. I stood just in front of him. He put his hands on my shoulders,      slid them down my arms,      stroked my hands. I leaned back against him. He leaned against me. We didn’t say anything. He was Read more