Hear the twinkles scrambled down
     for cash alone,
a have-to-scratch, a keeps–on–itching
     scab of sound,
the lyrics rhyme like you’re a cat
and someone’s stamping on your tail;
nursery verse for nursery heads.

Those sneering noises still fix anger
     in my thoughts
with junky tunes injected every spin;
they empty sensibility
like acid empties eyes:
nursery verse for nursery heads.

Oh, consumer kings,  oh  how
     you show respect
to those addicted to your same again:
nursery verse from nursery heads.

the liberation of [placeholder]

I find your style, visually and verbally, engaging and individual while utterly without posturing. Which is not the norm on any count. (Randolph Healy)

A work of art and a labour of love, worth every penny of the 16 pound asking price, The Liberation of [Placeholder] will grace any coffee table. More please. … I want to hold [this] up as a model for where, in this digital age, poetry in print should be bound. Poetry collections as artefacts …. (The Journal, Autumn 2012)