December 21st 2019. We met in the soft cotton tunnels, both wriggling upward toward the light, and when we reached the surface, we found that the landscape was a duvet; a duvet of molehills for us to climb into and out of. A duvet meadow of blue, pale, but warmed by rods of sunlight. A … Continue reading dream diaries…76
December 12th 2019. I climb Old Lyme Road, past the dark houses, the long garden lawns. The black of the hedges leaning out into the tarmac. The village behind me, impossibly small, improbably distant. And then, the road ends abruptly, just as I remember it. It is still marked by the iron gate, brown and … Continue reading dream diaries…75
some memory of blue clay, of buttered gorse, jutting bayonet of flint, half-hidden, always just an inch away, this very, very evening, returned again, beleaguered, beached and batchelor: palm of secret, saddened gems. the following adornments remain abandoned on the tidal floor waiting for me to discover them - a glass of sand, a special … Continue reading hinge of laughter.
nickreeves 