Approaching midnight and floating into the train / a silver-haired woman takes a seat. From her bag / slowly appears Heaney’s The Haw Lantern. / / She flicks his leaves in a solemnness vacancy. / I’ve had too many pints of Heaneyken and smile / at my feeble joke while she settles near Clearan...

oi get off my poem Pinky / your porky fingers lard my lean sheets / / look at my darkie mug – my indie tag / do you think I could think in the same old English / you keep to your standard my standard’s bastarded / / your editors boast they elect by taste / if they like me they think I’m ex...