Richard Whiting Biography

A daylight-spanning
squabble-fest for food.
Apples upturned and hollowed,
slightly tipsy, wobbling
...

(For Ian Curtis)

for now, the high bidder
I sit, looking out under grey skies
...

You don’t need to know
how I ended up in the mire.
That’s another poem.
What I can tell you
...

And so
on the third day of April
they angle in
low over Landguard Point
...

I wish that I enjoyed life
as much as you.
Welcome in,
you thrill-seeking
...