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Back from bingo (furrows from Colm Toibin)

ÓÓÓconfidence of those roads sad attics a smile from her could be unwelcome would be dust back from Bingo Rembrandt alone never telling Noel played the tin whistle all grace notes half-forgotten now   blocking the way green knit cap almost malicious blotting pad and a pen less than no money almost defiant ‘I’ll go(…)

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Salty cheese (pressed from Amos Oz)

so cruel fleas, germs not exactly a room Adelle had not forgotten he would write pickle cucumbers, make jam a tendency to mist up a layer of sycophancy a student that’s not really a student a passing shadow Carpenter’s glue salty cheese his memories ‘cross out erred’ proletarian hammer blows hotheads and imbeciles  

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