celtic fires on this hyrne or horn, this gifted tongue of kent, still dream of trade armadas in the offing, above the stove of timbers. turnstones on the shore ungravel kilned penny pipes and pins and shingle, a bronze of barnes wallis and some kid skimming stones.
he set a tarpaulin beneath two shadowed trees and spread his proceeds all around. he sat in the sand & handed out sheaves & read out the names of the things he had found. he promised attainment, elopement & seed, proffered score journals to prove he was sound. pulled paperback rabbits from warrens of … Continue reading paperback rabbits.
Dave was one of the Catford street cleaners. He worked Inchmery Road (we lived at no. 3) and the surrounding roads of SE6. This was Dave’s patch. Being the 1960s, everyone knew Dave and Dave knew everyone. His were the eyes of the neighbourhood; in the same way that the bobby and the milkman were … Continue reading A Beautiful, Deer Antler Handle.
The rabbit has to be put into the hat before it can be brought out. He had taken of late to dwelling a grotto at the brink of the town. And here, from this cavern, of a gloam and of a dawn, he beckoned and beat back the breakers that boomed on the beach. … Continue reading Wizard of Was.
