Bournemouth, 1992. It is a miserable rainy Tuesday afternoon and I have spent the morning wandering around, trying to lose the hotel, and wondering why the older natives of Bournemouth seem quite happy to sit on garden walls, fully exposed to the rain, and wait for their buses. It looks as though someone has been around the suburbs, dropping grannies off, and forgetting to pick them up again.
People keep telling me that I need to publish these things, so I guess I might as well do something. I'm still too shy to actually publish them for real, but the anonymity of a webpage is more comfortable for me, so I'm putting them here. I'm also including some of my absolute favorite poems by some of my major influences. Eventually I may include some of my prose, but for now I'm focusing on verse. Please enjoy.
Links
Meg
Bartleby on-line
Barnes and Nobel
Planet Out