One Fathom Under.

"Secret tests," was your whisper of the submarine halved in the harbour. Unable to contribute anything further, beyond eyebrow and frown and ear, I encouraged lightly-rolled papers and palm-flattened papers of star maps and numbers to appear. Sailors, once one fathom under, hum, one octave over an ancient incantation, through the iron and water: Summoned; rise up and disappear. … Continue reading One Fathom Under.

American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.


I took the train home from the airport. It was the same journey as it had been earlier, except that now it was in reverse and I was alone, reflecting. The cloud was cold against the glass, a jet plane rose into the cumulus brew. I set my face, my ear really, against the window … Continue reading American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.