paper thin
my shopping trolley
sleeping in tired canal water
rush hour traffic hums
rubber tyres dragging
yet nothing moves faster
something nicotine-green
beneath sunken wire
memories slipping through
some whiskey-cask brown
others tracing-paper thin
a lifetime of others clothes
hanging wet
holding warmth
against each day
static hum
old radio antenna clicking
in time to metal rungs
a blanket kept dry
buried deep inside
more than plastic bags
and empty food boxes
thrown aside
a photo held close
a smile from one
a disgusted glance away
yet
this stale bread is mine to keep
for my dancing pigeons
next to my bare brown-black feet
Thanks to Linda Blatnik for the inspiration to take this piece from a note to a post.
From now until the Summer Solstice on June 21st, paid subscriptions are 50% off.
If you’ve been enjoying these quieter pieces, this is a gentle invitation to step a little closer.
Somewhere to pause for a while.
Step inside.
I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.
Something more from me?
Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.
All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery


There’s so much dignity in this piece without it ever asking for sympathy.
That last image with the pigeons stayed with me.
You did my vision justice.
Thank you. I am feeling closer all the time to the spirits of the homeless, immigrants, disabled addicted and lost people generally. a paycheck away. a food shortage away. health care
dropping me away from what is the reality. we need ŧhese people.