1. Toby's. 'Some of this grease is from sixty-six.' Slim. High-waisters; Levis'-greased; belted; (sometimes braced). Younger than I am now. Watched the waiters. Watched their edges. Whatever you want is a flat-top.
My Life In 6 Barbers
Category: Hair
her ghost.
still i find her, on the sill, in the fading birthday flowers, in the thirsty vase. a stray hair in the bath, her scrawl on some scrap paper. a receipt, screwed in denim. pocket and breathe for a moment, forever, her sillage as I pass the chair she favoured. i hear her songs; of course, her … Continue reading her ghost.
her porcelain leaving
one hair of her is adhered to the bathtub tonight & the way it is signed there is a bittersweet sight. i try to find meaning in its pale tangerine, tease pleasure from her signature divine. &, as i soak, i stroke with my finger, her porcelain leaving, into the shape of a heart.
The Bristol Arm.
[I'm reposting this from a couple of years back as it's Bob Dylan's birthday today - keep on keeping on. Peace x] Martin Kettle, formally of Stoneyclough but now resident of Penn Beacon, was stood on a table in the Eight Kings. He was taping the fourth corner of a large poster of Bob … Continue reading The Bristol Arm.
No wig, no gig.
"You’re telling me, when you went to church as a kid, you never got an orange with a candle stuck in it?" "An orange?" "Christmas orange." "At Christmas?" "Uh huh. With a candle." "Don't think I ever went to church as a kid." "Hmm. Well, you got this orange, okay, with a candle stuck in … Continue reading No wig, no gig.
serenade
the glassy stranger, front of stage, growing thin; conjure, silence, from the barber a handkerchief, a rabbit shape, an anecdote, a fringe.
