press play
When I was writing my long poem about Falmouth I had to resort to using every last scrap of fragmented, scribbled-down poetry from every notebook, napkin or rizla packet I happened to have festering in my bag. During a moment of distractionary washing-up I called my friend Failgirl to lament my writer's block and she told me I'd find poetry in the sink. This, in itself wonderfully poetic, was borrowed and made an appearance in the poem which can be read here: . In its own way this photo is a tribute to that story as I was preparing for the epic roast dinner at the pub I work in and Joplin's cover was immediately called to mind when this incident happened!
