The Old Man Grinner. See, here I am; in the fireplace, the grate, the hearth, the dirt. Here I am; atop the hissing log, in the flame, the glow, the smoke; still I cannot raise a heat. I will whisper in the bubbling sap, shout as the pine cones snap. Here I am! I am … Continue reading The Young Galaxy.
Louella looking out the no-one-can-look-in glass. Everything inside the car defined. Everything outside blurring. Towns appear and disappear. Endless dual-carriage and fields. There is motion. There is none. There is heat. Burning Spear on repeat. There is no sickness. No one spoke as they drove west. They stayed the night at a clean hotel in Meredith. … Continue reading Aces, Fruits & Ingots.
The sun dropped behind the bruised horizon and the sky became plateaued in fading orange and blue. A car, bearing the legend Weston Taxis, appeared on the quiet street, stopping opposite The Playhouse. The sky was held in the theatre's windows; a ghost crowd, too; foyered. A man and a woman climbed from the taxi … Continue reading Pan & The Fluted Mimosa.
The Summer Reckoning (excerpt)
“I don’t like it.” No one hears him. No one sees him. He used to think they were ignoring him, but they're really not. He is concealed. He stands within the stinking flock garden among the yellowed roses depicted on the wallpaper of the Eight Kings' public bar. Grinner pokes his nose beyond the faux … Continue reading No Glass.
Fading This is from when he was still a young boy; hip-slung, just so; nothing very much to say. Three lances of sunlight, emanating from beyond the top right-hand corner, fall forever across the photograph, piercing a number of the sitters - pupils and teachers. The headmaster (Mr. D) - front row, centre - has … Continue reading Fading Beehive.
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