Jackson

Dream A cable strung across a room Songs pegged out to dry / Men practising music / Rockn Jaunty / Intense / Guitars Basses / Voices / I tried to join in / I tried to peg my voice to the line / But it wouldn’t hang / The drug man practised his drug music… Read more

If bliss is in the small things maybe I should stop trying to live as an artist and go work in the Post Shop or at some friendly trade like answering the phone or doing the hair of old ladies Nine to five from Monday to Friday The boss would call me Jan At six… Read more

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

I dreamed a gun like Dirty Harry’s, a Magnum, phallic silvercoloured barrel I dreamed a gun and a lock A lock on a blank room where I had to hide the gun A lock on a blank room with an ancient drawer full of other people’s junk where I had to hide the gun We… Read more

I have to admit, U2 are not what they were. They are slower, less able to stretch and risk. They have a routine. They come out wrapped in layers of production. But they will always be my band. The love is like the eye light of a time-marked woman still looking at the grizzled man… Read more