Paul, being her lover, tried, with his voice, to rouse her. She'd liked his voice. But not so much now it seemed. He spoke her name with a frog in his throat. We giggled. Sally did nothing. Then he was nose to the carpet, ear next to her's. He stroked her hair. He spoke her … Continue reading Twice (For Some Reason).
some things [take a long time to stick] plus some things [take a long time to slip] equals something, something, something... alive to give
It hasn't all been about counting magpies or indeed any corvid (sic) tally these last few months here at Reeves Mansions. Like everyone else I've had to learn to live with myself; look beneath the bed and find all the things I hid under there; one of which was my Tascam 4 track cassette recorder. … Continue reading Her Anarchy Baffles (cassettes)
Sam crossed the ankledeep, blackrain street, and setting his back to it, stepped up to the redbricked Rotten Fox. The panes glowed yellowblack and orange. He capped his brow, saluted the glass and glimpsed her therein, almost at once, a rose among ruins. The carpet was threadbare last century. It wonders what these new feet … Continue reading Threadbare Last Century.
Skirt gathered at her knees, chin on a table, she’s asking now something of the ear of a wild-bearded man. She sweeps her hair from her cheek. He appears not to listen. His black leather cowboy hat and bike jacket speak sinister wisdoms. There is a tiny gunmetal death’s head pinned, longtime, to the lapel. … Continue reading A Perfectly Good Table.
There is little in the way of illumination beyond the come hither of the one-arm bandit, the dim bulbs and the fluorescents striping in repeat in the mirror behind the teak. She works the tables, throwing hello, hello, hello. He orders a drink and he admires her over the rim. Eventually, she nudges him at … Continue reading Grotesque The Glass.
