City Poem Under the iron bridge, office workers, wet with rain, crowd on coaches & trams. I stay by the river & watch them go. ...

Aquarius So, the routes of the city, all its paths, arteries and overflows – the scummy run-offs from sewers and roads – end or...

The North Is Rain strikes terraces stacked in brown brick   And wind blows through the underpass.     Two fat-breasted pigeons   Fly...

Lancaster bleached by rain – a wet wind blows through a line of washing. Fog frost, petrol odour, urban towertops vanish in the aerial grey