i’m out of the colour red
my eyes see early blue in faces
green and sky  black rain

i’m out of the taste of hot
all is turmeric and cheese
no coffee  no chilli  no wild

i’m out of the shine in eyes
mine i think  everywhere i look
half life automaton  stagger at shop

i’m out of the shock of cold rain
no that’s  i need the shock of cold rain
it’s time for november  it’s time for ice

it’s time for that scream of the skin

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)