He has built up a world of his own. A world of words. Poetry. Or songs. Or pop songs mutated into poetry. The Boy Was in the Hallway he calls it.

The, yet incomplete, rooms make out a maze of words. Pop words and others. He’s still building the house, and just to confuse the readers further he just might change the titles of the poems, not matching the title of the songs, as they do now.

Visiting some of the rooms I wonder if it isn’t meant for the pieces to be sung. Songlike. Or perhaps read with some irony, and distance.

Graham is the author of five poetry collections and has been published in several magazines. He lives in England and works at the Palace of Dreams, as he says himself.