The groynes on the Brighton-Hove seafront provide a measuring stick of how high or low the tide is by how much groyne is visible. They also offer a never-ending series of absolutely unique moments, like this one, caught yesterday while sunning myself pre-swim. I must remember to always carry my camera phone to at least... Continue Reading →
Poems in Translation
1. I was devoted to blue. But when I met the grey of Copenhagen, I consecrated myself to the priesthood of its tones. from At Kierkegaard’s tomb by Enrique Moya When I was living in Budapest, I used to go to Vienna every couple of months to join in the Labyrinth Poetry evenings at Cafe... Continue Reading →
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Found Poem: Sunday Seafront
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