He's very clever, his name is John

He's very clever, his name is John began by the reservoir, laid out on the grass in my winter coat, with a packet of Camel Light cigarettes, a notebook and as much time as the day or night cares to allow me. There is a confidence to these twenty four poems, occasionally a relapse but in the main I am in the game. This is as I always wanted it to be as a youngster; although I often stood, thin and useless, on the wing - but still able to score directly from the corner



© Christopher Sanderson 2017