Imagined Matins.

Barely rested, but with fevered beats beneath my skin, I drew her supposed aroma in and out and in again and all around this sleeping creature my world contracted and expanded; and I wondered of her dreaming.   To pass the time I figured cracks, pretended craters, dead seas, frontiered charts across her ceiling. On … Continue reading Imagined Matins.

her ghost.

i still find her on the sill in the dying birthday flowers - near to faded, pretty in the thirsty vase.   her stray hair in the bath, her scrawl on some scrap paper - her receipt, screwed in denim pocket and breathe her for a moment, forever, her surprising sillage   as I pass the chair she … Continue reading her ghost.

The Night Was Teal.

  Knott laid the hot bike down gently in the knee-high grass among the night shade of the trees, shy of the flood-lit garage forecourt. He threw his helmet down. He rubbed his head vigorously, unzipped the jacket and took out the empty plastic bottle nested there, threw that down, too. He straddled the five-bar … Continue reading The Night Was Teal.