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"
Category: shit haiku
her song for sleepless children
the thinner spectre of the two, pale and serene and half in shadow, from the creases of the curtain, floats a plaintive lullaby - her song for sleepless children. "this plastic fort for a painted cowboy, this tepee for a brave. this mountain range of books to read 'The Kid took the reins and … Continue reading her song for sleepless children
an impossible swan.
'In a shed out the back of seventy one she hammered bird shapes from metal for business and fun. Sparked feathers became an impossible swan; trumpeter black from raincloud of iron.' I recalled these lines from an earlier scene... and thought, I'd play him now almost the same. The same, but slightly differently - in … Continue reading an impossible swan.
The Selected Gush (1880-1910)
Letter to The Times Sir - I cannot abide the slender new volume, The Selected Gush (1880-1910). But, who among us, in all honesty, could say they've never once been smitten by her louche, languid lines of lust (described in this very journal as 'fin de siècle erotica')? No! Neither I! I've annotated her verse … Continue reading The Selected Gush (1880-1910)
a balance act
we came at last to an adobe square sun-bleached and honeyed with busy voices. barking market traders hawked their wares - halite, tin and nugget-silver mined from those blue and hazy mountains, caged birds, of many colours, uttered (though we could not speak their language). spices sillaged the noon dry air and monkeys, leashed, and feral … Continue reading a balance act
Tender.
The sunlight on the café counter. Clatter, scrape and second cuppa. Stainless, Sheffield. Bowl of sugar. Elbow, knuckle ink, fingered butter. Gingham vinyl tablecloth. Spoon song, ketchup, salt and pepper. Bubble. Double egg and chips. Love Me Tender, tiny speaker. The market barker's comedy - Same routine since ninety three. "arfur cue f'fifty pee." His … Continue reading Tender.