I’m away from home in the Shropshire Countryside all week.  I wrote a review which is in  the Independent newspaper  today. It’s about  an exhibition at The ICA called Poor.Old.Tired.Horse.  Read more [...]

The human being has patterned his every move, sound, and image after God’s other creatures and natural wonders. So begins Music and the Primeval by Duke Ellington. Tonight alongside Tomorrow’s Warriors Jazz Orchestra I kicked off the first half of the event with his words at The Queen Elizabeth Hall through a piece written by rising star of Jazz Peter Edwards. The entire event was introduced by a letter from The Queen. Read more [...]

Pelecanos compliments me on my quilted chucks (quilted all star converse) and asks where I got them from. It was a cool note. And with pride I tell him Hackney, only in green. But I think it was a sampledesign linenot sure you can get them, but I tell Pelecanos that there are stores all over the country. That's George Pelecanos who wrote The Wire. Read more [...]

I travel through hackney past everywhere to the Southbank Centre threw my bike into the office hiked up to the Westminster Pavilion on 6th Floor. David Buckland and Peter Gilbert he who made the film Hoop Dreams. Read more [...]

I spend the afternoon at The Institute of Contemporary Arts inside Poor.Old.Tired.Horse. an exhibition of words in art from the concrete poetry of the 1960's to now. Read more [...]

The audience were there at 10.30am. But my contract says 11am. At 10.30am the audience was full but many had left obviously feeling rejected. Not good for an event for kids in care. Read more [...]

The parents had to decide which child must be eaten for the survival of the others. So terrifying was the process that they convinced themselves God would choose who must be eaten. When the children enquire after their brother they tell them He must have left us and tried to get break free of the island The parents cried in front of their children as they ate. And their children secretly resented their brother for this. where is this food from asks one of the children. God provides says the mother, tears filling her eyes. Read more [...]

Here are the poems: BBC Radio Four. Saturday Live 9am until 10am. Woke at 6am to finish these two poems off as best I could. The first one is broadcast at the beginning of the programme and the second towards the end. Read more [...]

It is surprisingly the most moving event of the entire year so far. A woman who wears a top hat with her daughter is sat in the front row. It is Gil Scott heron's daughter with her mother. After we have a long chat and I cycle home. Read more [...]

And so today I travelled two hundred and fifty miles to Manchester. Tiredness has crept into me like a homeless person. “Would you like some chocolate with that” asks the man in Euston station’s newsagent. Read more [...]