I signed up for a course - Creative Journaling: it ticked all the boxes. Something that I've always done. Well, you gotta have a hobby, innit. The amusement being me (I should put more effort in). The notebook is the end of the novel - Wish I'd said that - I just did (I note … Continue reading My Strasse.
The magi appeared from imagination, stepping from the between to the in-between. Stepping Greenwich Mean Time. Onto the moon, stepping. Stones on water, stepping. Heel to toe, stepping. Fancy footwork! Stepping.
The photo has faded since last I looked. I thought, this only happens in films and books. "He had a fondness for attics," said the rook. Still tells tales, 6x4, a little stained. The boys' names were, Eenie, Meanie, Minnie, Moe, Daniel, Luke and me. Fish fingers and ice-cream cones. Content in wellies. Similarly, it … Continue reading Fondness for attics.
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in the narrow back yard of sixty-four can be found a kind of life – and some of it is wild. a picture frame to step through - a meridian of glass. it's really such a simple trick. it imbues this view with… wet cutlery and laundry lines. frame within frame over concrete yard. every word from … Continue reading meridian of glass.
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"
