Talking Crow

Jim Clarkson is a lucky git. He has written poetry since he was 17 and mostly he has done this in pockets of time in-between doing other stuff. His is a poetry which has sprouted like a weed growing between cracks in the pavement; a poetry which has spread like mushrooms in a cellar. Often he has referred to it as bandit poetry, because that’s how it’s been written - in stolen moments at 5 in the morning, or in car parks, or at the top of the stairs waiting for children to go to sleep. In May 20