Saturday, January 16, 2016


What do you love when your love isn't moving you anywhere? Say I've been drinking for 22 years, playing computer games for 33, is it permissible to accept this now and that the other more interesting things I have done were just a way to facilitate these two?

What's a better way of imagining the rug slowly being pulled from beneath me? Or is it more amusing to imagine someone trying to do this surreptitiously, with care, and me keeling and too vain to realise, in pantomime to the throng that I have imagined scooped together. 


  1. this is a lovely poem. what is the significance of 14 as the title?

  2. Thanks! 14 is how old I was the first time I got drunk. I was at a cousin's wedding.

  3. I like "keeling" as a sort of portmanteau of kneeling and keening...