Stoned Again

So, of course, I could not resist the lure of two poets sitting chatting in my garden. So eventually I went down, just for a cup of tea. But there was wine instead, and spliff, and then we all got chatting about poems and the poet celebre Geoffrey Hill, who  I confess, I’d never heard of. And so I ended up stoned again and walking with them to the Misty Moon, a dive in Harlesden. And we drank a bit there and chatted more, mostly about tuna fishing. Neil’s friend is Mark Ward, (Thunder Alley), and a very aimiable man. He tried to row across the Irish Sea once, but collided with a lifeboat three miles off shore.

They have been trying to persuade me to join them on their scheme of national literary tours.

They can fuck off.

I am stoned again, but managed to separate myself from them in time to come home and pray for my sins.

I face a night of writing my memoir and nursing my brain fucntion.

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~ by moniqueroffey on April 25, 2009.

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