There is no comment

wants some volunteers for half-an-hour, most,in the Cognitive Research lab…so when it’s my turn in the queue,I go in and he says, now go in therefor fifteen minutes, only one instruction,don’t think about a green bear…so, money for old rope, with bear attached,I go in there, check every few minutes thatI haven’t thought about some…

you need to read first..In return, give me a listof any of yours you might likeme to read..Though I can’t promise to do that right away;I’m very busy, writing poems and stuff.’Well, go stuff your stuffjust where it came from.Oops, I forgot to take the tablets..

hospital library, top shelfjust out of wheelchair reach,on the shelf labelled ‘Reference’)observed thatnonfiction writers tend to die, factually, at sixty-eight;novelists tie it all up at sixty-six;playwrights lower the curtain at sixty-three,and poets close their stanzas at sixty-two.Well, thanks..six years – looking on the bright side –for your favourite biographer to write you up;four years for…

with a treasure house of jewels;sparkling when they’re known;beyond price, beyond touch,beyond sight – yet not beyondthe sensing in one other self..filled, and yet doubting, towards, even, denying..awaiting – perhaps not ardently enough? –the moment when they’re calledto show themselves; the almost(but not quite…) unimaginableriches of the self..

of West Hamateurshas sacked Pardewa scholarly note herepardew is old norman Frenchfor by God, as might appearin some Shakespeare play,‘pardew, wench, thou hast a pairof foaming jugs, I warrant…’or in a later century of faithby God comes victory to the worthyor on the terraces,by God it’s time he was sackedwhile Curbishley soundsmore like a 19th…

in the darkened abbey, brother monksstill and silent at the golden altar rail,kneeling there, clearing that inner spaceinto which may enter what God wills –sometimes He takes me unawares;murmurs like a gentle thundersome clear message beyond wordsyet winging into crystal sentences,and that, a treasure-house of joy…why do I call it sweet, this momentsavoured, indescribable? Becausethere…