Street Market - by
Here, under the awning of cotton,
/ Tomatoes are heaped in a flare
/ Of glossy red beauty, and rotten
/ Sick-sweet smells of fruit fill…
London
Westminster Bridge Revisited - by
As, William, you are here today with me,
/ will you buy a burger from that stall, while
/ dodging teeming trails of tourists?…
Drunk Autumn Midnight Below Victoria Embankment - by
And the sky wet as a loose tarpaulin.
/ I’m walking but not home.
/
/ I’m taking the air. It tastes
/ sweet, like rust.