In 2001, I won a prize in the Guardian’s text message poetry competition with this poem …
14: a txt msg poM
his Is r bunsn brnr bl%
his hair lyk fe filings
W/ac/dc going thru.
I sit by him in kemistry
my @oms split
wen he 
s @ me.
(Translation? 14: a text message poem / His eyes are bunsen burner blue / his hair like iron filings / with the current going through. / I sit by him in chemistry / my atoms split / when he smiles at me.)
It went all over the place, this poem – in a fresco on the Arts Council office wall, in a German text book, in this book about text linguistics. These are the people I love the most – the ones who asked me nicely if they could use it. By putting this golden oldie here on my site, I’m making it easy for you to find me if you want to ask me too!
