Someone has complained of the beach weed stench - this beach stinks is etched into a bench. Next to this someone has penned for consideration You a bitch and your mum is a fish • The queue for chicken bones, the hound shite footprints, the coven of the blameless, detail the carpet, the sand and … Continue reading Your colour schemes delight.
seaside towns, love break downs. location and relocation. sunset, star rise. moonshine. landscape, passage, sound. all the elements are sessioned. see. hear. feel. time. * "We're playing tonight at the Klub Foot." "Uh-huh. What sort of thing d'you do?" He considers this in the mirror. The scissors flashing. "Mm, Oh, XY. Zed. Ampersand? Shoe gaze, … Continue reading post shore gaze.
Wayne threw a right. The van slew the road. Black. Strafe lights. He stamped the brakes, raising slack gravel. He pulled on the smoke stuck to his lips, nothing. One long lusty honk with the flat of his hand. "All out that's getting out." I lifted the bag from between my feet, thanked him. He … Continue reading Dead Meadow.
you dreamt this, she said. i had a trick involving string, a snide loop, a special knot. i had learned it from my dad - seen it once in 1970 something. every magician needs an assistant, be they beautiful or a drunken old shepherd with hoof coloured teeth and field hands. but he had a … Continue reading Bloodline
It was chalked on the bog wall and spread quickly round school - a whisper to a chant in the playground. “Pippin’s mum’s only got one tit!” Odd. • We’d played darts at Pippin’s last summer. The house on the corner, halfway up Steep Street. I kept score. We smoked his mum’s cigarettes, drank his … Continue reading Withered Apples.