The fear is not of something new
but “can the mind absorb it?”.
Like helpless dreams, a tension bout,
this fear’s control, to lose it.

Is this where the phobics herd,
who dare not stand nor face it,
and call me rude, a geek or nerd,
if I declare to ride it?

And so I climb the higher path,
accelerating self.
Peacock faces worry up,
huddle. But I’ve done it. I know:

I’ve learnt the new technology,
uncared those sneering weenies.
I turn my back and grin the dawn.
I’m Gawain. They are the was.

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)