He took the photos and the postcards from the mantelpiece - the palm-sized slate that he used as an incense holder; the dead flower he'd saved from his birthday: he scooped a scatter of low denomination coins and the glass jar tea light holders and scraps of paper with his hand on them - and … Continue reading Box Ephemera.
Paul, being her lover, tried, with his voice, to rouse her. She'd liked his voice. But not so much now it seemed. He spoke her name with a frog in his throat. We giggled. Sally did nothing. Then he was nose to the carpet, ear next to her's. He stroked her hair. He spoke her … Continue reading Twice (For Some Reason).
The pipistrelle circled the darkening square and, with an ease unseen, made a wheel of it; a welcome for the rising shadow tide. The bell, the harbour bell, sang once across Penn Beacon, reaching the garden some time after. The thin brass coloured peal echoed across the three walls of the back garden and faded faded faded … Continue reading Dim Witness.
James in black. Drainpipes, black. Second-best shirts; buttoned to the throat, Dylan and Dylon-black. Fingernails stained, if not from clothes dye, then from varnish, black. He wore double you double you two jackboots: zip-up, calf-high, inch of sole, steel toed, black. Hair, cheap, black. He would sometimes sport a pink TRB button, a lapelled safety … Continue reading Inch of Sole/Punk As Fuck.
A vast and beautiful sadness must have unfolded overnight, because when he awoke in his jumbled sheets, there it was, imbuing everything, and he found himself wondering of her return. Wondering would she be the same? Would she appear to be younger or (somehow) older? Would the tangerine fringe she favoured of late have faded, becoming less lustrous; … Continue reading Polaroid Beneath Tissue.
[I'm reposting this from a couple of years back as it's Bob Dylan's birthday today - keep on keeping on. Peace x] Martin Kettle, formally of Stoneyclough but now resident of Penn Beacon, was stood on a table in the Eight Kings. He was taping the fourth corner of a large poster of Bob … Continue reading The Bristol Arm.
