Dry

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Bugger off to those soda syphons claiming in January sainthood – un-settlers of our sense of right with their smug month-long cast of sober teases off whipped rods – with their dry false flies as bait – those anglers now spreading their dull-witted winter diseases of no more indulgences – drowning by their dry resolution...


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Bar Work

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

//Grown men bear-hug
in the cinema bar -
this town's tough men -
they stand held-hard .../


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