Top Dollar/ cassettes/ 2022 I will dress in fresh clean white tee shirt and scruffy jeans. Scuffed-up monkey boots don’t mean I can’t pop my collar. . Unbox socks of cotton. No, I ain’t forgotten how to tie my laces, I was shown. Yeah, my hair needs cutting. . Wash my face this morning. Pay … Continue reading Top Dollar.
Category: creative writing
Martin Kettle’s Brass In Pocket.
* Martin Kettle, laughing loudly, like an empty wallet, flushed, but not flush, and head of table, accepting a few Kronenbourg, raises his special birthday tankard, says thank you, all, and tells his Brass In Pocket story. We'd all heard it before, but it flowed from him, sounding a lot like lore to me. I … Continue reading Martin Kettle’s Brass In Pocket.
dream diaries…116
11/01/23 Army trucks block the street. A thin man climbs from a black car. He wears green, leather leiderhosen. He is tall and fills the air, from his knotted laces to his felt hunting hat, with bad vibe. He blows a whistle and it begins. Dozens of soldiers pour from the open backs of the … Continue reading dream diaries…116
I Whispered.
whisper | ˈ(h)wispər | verb speak very softly using one's breath without one's vocal cords. literary (of leaves, wind, or water) rustle or murmur softly. [usually in singular] a slight trace; a hint: ORIGIN Old English hwisprian, of Germanic origin; related to German wispeln, from the imitative base of whistle https://youtu.be/dP3QOi1Nb7A A reading of I Whispered, from the forthcoming collaborative volume of new lyrical ballads, Archery In The … Continue reading I Whispered.
Ceremony at 19:19
Moonlight milk and honey balm Croham Hurst's acred boughs. Sacred beech, I approach, heavy browed, with gift for the archbishop's palm. . His Grace, at the bar, dishevelled glasses, resplendent, resembling ale keg, East German anarchist, bon viveur, hedge, and cavalier, proves himself a carefree dancer. . With ceremony of taper, of mantled candles: tea … Continue reading Ceremony at 19:19
dream diaries… 115
01:01:23 The Fall are holding auditions at Rock Bottom Studios, so I decide to go along. When I arrive the group are a vast collection of known and unknown players; the room is crowded. I notice Joe F sat in a corner noodling about on a guitar. He is one of several guitarists and now … Continue reading dream diaries… 115