Bringing both burial and breath, beginning and end, the bells, born of nothing but silence and time stretched thin, begin their jubilee. Protractors and papers and pens are lidded in desks. The board chalk is vanished as chairs scratch varnished parquet. The children fall upon doors, open them. The windows crowd with their faces. At … Continue reading Conjuring Sam.
Voided, the ruptured milk lorry stopped feeding Steep Street and soon enough the white river knuckles became trickles puddling in gutters. The milk dribbled into drains, dribbled, dripped and disappeared. And, before their very eyes, the tarmac blackened again in the afternoon sun. Mrs. Ffooks sits on the pavement in skeins of creamed polyester, white … Continue reading Voided.
17/03/20 "She will piss fart a squirrel, defying all logic." Caroline P has started speaking in this ridiculous, nonsensical 3rd person fashion. This, I assume at first, is because she is drunk on gin. However, after some time I begin to question this theory and wonder instead that this is merely the way she speaks … Continue reading dream diaries…83.
Ffooks mums got one fucking bosom! This assertive oddity, surly odd ditty, this ode to an odd titty, with its grammatical shortcomings, is rendered in white chalk on the door of the third cubicle in the boys’ lavatory. It appeared among the bristling graffiti galaxy the first week of January and will serve as good … Continue reading The Satellites & The Major Planets.
and the arrow arched the blue and fell, their voices dimmed and faded. The wave rose silent in the bay. The needle and the vinyl braided. And supine upon the shore, the boy became very calm - a signature, a sign forever. Uneasy invitees, fingering his brow, his seams misread the message in the braille. But … Continue reading The music
15.02.20. On the late night train out of Victoria with Magic Sam. We're heading back to what were once the suburbs, but now is just the thin wedge of south London, Croydon: the bogie smear of Surrey. The train has taken so long that we have ended up in the past or a version of … Continue reading dream diaries…82
