How the world turns: clouds inch their torn edges across the blue and the wind blows alternately angry and mellow down here, balancing a pinpoint of time I read a book by Conrad and I dream ... Achilles with redcurrant hair and ash-streaked arms ... a gull dips and bends, scudding at my windowpanes and sun pours its full force into my face - eyes wince as I philosophise how glad I am to be alivenext poem