in which Ms B reads something she likes

It's only short. And it's all I've read. I haven't even read the rest of the poem (now you know what it's like here - but if you're Sara-Mae Tuson, don't worry, you'll get your review on time! Trust me...). It is one of James Wilkes' book reviews, of which I am a big fan. I saw him read some of them at the Poetry Society lately (at New Blood, I think), and he was my favourite reader of that evening. He makes up the titles, authors, publishers - they're marvellous. Here is one about, though he may not have known it at the time, me! From Intercapillary Space.

He writes:

"Dear Blog, hello. In urban cammo trousers I am nearly elfin, blotchy, Palmeresque. Two books balance in my cargo pouches. One advances in baroque sweeps, the other its undoing, cuts away. Hello pigeons. Will you be my archivists? Hello plane trees. Will you be my audience? All shake their heads with masterful disdain."