a barefoot shuffle did evolve on the blue and orange rug around which, from heel to toe, we did not speak, but listened to side one of beggars banquet. the silent television screen (in the mirror) shows the moon from the window of our room [space] hoo-hoo "tranquility"
Considered reckless by some, he could, to these eyes, should the occasion arise, be relied on to act out open heart surgery upon chilled packets of vacuum sealed beetroots and the like. "A pair of old hairdressing scissors, a loose grip on the lingo and a souchon of common. Modus operandi." The running commentary, I … Continue reading the ear of the dim-sighted diner.
a bowlegged woman and a woe betide gent and a worrisome teen with marker pens, come suddenly through the door. Over the rim of his jar, he decides them, "a very rum number indeed."
The back lane, this new-year dawn, is littered, bleakly - tumbled bins, spent bottles, knuckled tabs, sodden boxes; hound shites, plastic wraps, a quilted headboard, yellowed hand towel; wrapping-paper tumbleweeds troubling parked cars; a bloody gown of herring gull (gutting something); and the last, the very last, or the first, Christmas tree, skulking and skittling … Continue reading The Wronged Tree.
New Brighton - where the sun shines, even when it rains. As he leaves the shadow of the station, Knott is bathed in a sense of being on holiday, of being abroad, of being. The sun shines on New Brighton. He puts on the green shades. The sky is bigger here; the sea birds, unlike … Continue reading New Brighton
Jackdaws & Witches jackdaws & witches tapping watches, stripping you to the bone. some still can't say your name without stretching all the wrong vowels. i hear your voice i'm ankle-deep in bluebells. my red penknife unfolds. i'm scratching your initials. trapdoors every monday morning, cornflowers, my boots are soiled. the grey birds, they are … Continue reading Jackdaws & Witches (audio)