It’s all about back streets, outsider thinking, out of
The gossamer thin light of high street low brow, the
Alley walls carry rich marks, the parchment of
Bitter street poets. Found a book shop, the best
Since City Lights, San Francisco, another outsider
Castle, built on paper & ideals, you could’ve left me
There rest of my life, sweeping up, making Tea,
exchanging fragments with the ungalleried who
Call to pass the time.
In love with the smell of paper & ink, art driven by
Amsterdam, reveals it’s jewels at night, cruising
The artists quarter, mapping journeys, connecting
Stories, collecting marks & sculptures, alone
With the night, uninterrupted, we slip silently past
Bars rammed with ruddy faces, arm in arm, singing
As one to an accordion bathed in orange light.