Last Week I Was Just Someone Who

I Once Saw A Picture In The Paper Of John Hegley With 'poet' Written On His Knuckles, And I Thought That Was Pretty Cool, So I Was Quite Up Front About It.

If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things, How Can They Be Called Remarkable?

If You Listen, You Can Hear It. The City, It Sings. If You Stand Quietly, At The Foot Of A Garden, In The Middle Of The Street, On The Roof Of A House. It's Clearest At Night, When The Sound Cuts More Sharply Across The Surface Of Things, When The Song Reaches Out To A Place Inside You. It's A Wordless Song, For The Most, But It's A Song All The Same, And Nobody Hearing It Could Doubt What It Sings. And The Song Sings The Loudest When You Pick Out Each Note.

It Is Something I Recognise In Myself. I Do Eavesdrop. I Do People-watch, A Lot.

Now That I've Had A Book Published, It Is Quite Validating, But A Bit Embarrassing.