Poetry Workshop

Wacken thi sen up dahn t’coil oil th’art nesh thee. What’s that when it’s at ooam. What’s that when it’s at ooam. Dahn t’coil oil god’s own county bloomin’ ‘eck. Mardy bum face like a slapped arse shurrup. Bobbar nobbut a lad t’foot o’ our stairs tell thi summat for nowt aye. [1. This is an FD footnote.] How much soft lad what’s that when it’s at…[Read more]

Hello Steve

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DRAFT 3 waiting here for words
through airwaves tomorrow
but none will come not without a breaching
point to this general pride of silence

you send no word and yet it’s known
you’re out there
thumping […]

untold days waiting here for words
through airwaves tomorrow
but none will come not without a breaching
point to this general pride of silence

you send no word and yet it’s known
you’re out there
thumping […]

untold hours waiting here for word
through airwaves tonight
but none will come not without a breaching
point to this general pride of silence

you send no word and yet it’s known
you’re out there
thumping […]

Shu’ thi gob tha what th’art nesh thee ne’ermind what’s that when it’s at ooam. Tha daft apeth where’s tha bin how much soft lad wacken thi sen up. Wacken thi sen up will ‘e ‘eckerslike ah’ll gi’ thi summat to […]