my Ghanain driver’s been working all night. It doesn’t stop him sharing his taxi driver philosophy. We discuss Zimbabwe and Britain’s duplicitous role as both coloniser of its past and arbiter of its present. "White people", he tells me, "you can not trust them, I’m not saying black people are perfect, but you can’t trust white people". I know why he is saying what he is saying. However you look at it, if a white person said the same about a black person it would have a totally different root cause. "How did they hurt you" I think to myself. "How did they hurt you". Read more [...]

Here is the final verse of the poem I read at Glastonbury as part of Music Through Unconventional means, with shlomo and the vocal Orchestra. Read more [...]

In the sixties and early seventies, in Ethiopia, Addis Ababa was swinging. Addis was the Monaco of Africa. The men and women wore the best Italian clothes and the clubs were swinging. Drive-by Coffee houses would begin the evening and stay open as the club revelers returned from the dance. . By day time the Ethiopian jazz musicians would be playing in the Imperial Guard Band for the Emperor and in the night they’d play the hip joints of downtown Addis. Read more [...]

"Whereas received opinion states Two’s company threes a crowd in terms of the Liverpool poets, two’s company, three’s allowed. Under the Influence of Mersey Sound, How it came about and what the influence is, is some of what I would like to share this evening. Read more [...]

One of the greatest ensembles of our time - San Fransisco chronicle A performance of definitive greatness. - Daily Telegraph Last night I took part in an historical moment by being part of the audience at the final concert of The Alban Berg Quartet. They are a world class quartet and have been together for over thirty years. One year after the death of Thomas Kakuska they have decided to gracefully end their illustrious career. I was commissioned to write a poem for them and did. It is called Rosin and was placed inside the final programme of this concert after which I read the poem for them, to them at a private reception held in their honour on 6th floor of The Royal Festival Hall. Read more [...]

Tonight I’m curating an event to launch Architecture Week through Futurecity arts at Chelsea Space Gallery. It will be the first public reading of The Gilt of Cain, the poem to be placed inside a sculptor near Liverpool Street Station as a commission from The City of London Commission on the abolition of the slave trade act. Read more [...]

Tonight’s full moon viewed from the top of the hill amongst sleepy whisps of clouds is a bit gorgeous. It happened on the late night walk. “Look” bridget said. I couldn’t see a bean, Read more [...]

We shall be teaching these fifteen people, strangers, to write and to be with the most important part of their lives, creativity. They will be lawyers and scientists, restaurateur and arts administrators. They have leapt from their comfort zones into the unknown. They have taken a risk without which there is no benefit. Read more [...]

After the protest the journalist and I go over the River Thames to The South Bank. It’s buzzing. Elbow are rehearsing with an all male choir in The Blue Room situated in the lusciously named Spirit Level beneath the royal festival hall. I walk into the room and there they are in all their glory. Rehearsal is the greatest thing. Mary King is directing the Male voice Choir while Elbow play and Guy sings. The string section is lined up against the wall. The joint is right “lemn” Guy Garvey says “Guy” I say at precisely the same time. Hugs all round and kisses for Mary King. I then stand back and listen to the magic. Read more [...]

Here are the two poems read on BBC radio Fours Saturday Live today and broadcast to the nation. Read more [...]