Two poems by Peter Daniels

Regulars Tonight we go through to the small back room hung with wrestling posters, plastic vegetables and salami. It’s cosy here, warm at least, away from the street. Nearer the kitchen, source of heat, food and argument; nearer the toilets. Catch a lime-scented disinfectant that sanctifies the smell of drains. Up there on a ceiling from the surface of the moon, the humming fluorescent tubes … Continue reading Two poems by Peter Daniels