American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.

I took the train home from the airport. It was the same journey as it had been earlier, except that now it was in reverse and I was alone, reflecting. The cloud was cold against the glass, a jet plane rose into the cumulus brew. I set my face, my ear really, against the window … Continue reading American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.

a continuous slide.

behind a bending fence, bowed and ivy veined, the sad garden grows, unbound, around your father's house.   the vicar passes an envelope to you, pencilled with the word - piano - and begins to play something glissando.   where flowers grew, fingers potted. ashes into earth and creasing paper: john 6: 1 - 14, we listened … Continue reading a continuous slide.