[Rib Nite 3] Ever woke up from a big old sleep and wondered, wondered why your ribs are a-blowing in the breeze? Ever woke up on a vee dubya backseat? On a backseat with a head like a plug of Camembert cheese? Well, forgive me, please, but you ain't ever woke up. * He wondered … Continue reading Cup & Saucer.
8 [photocopy of a snapshot] I cut Lillian's hair every twelfth week, dry it every sixth. It grows. I cut it. I dry it. It has become grey by increments; city pigeon to autumn noon, fading print to cigarette ash. Each accretion of tone slowly highlighting further her pink brittle cheeks, the pools … Continue reading Mirror (8): Pale Airman.
nickreeves 