Polaroid Beneath Tissue.

  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.

The Bristol Arm.

[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.

The Beguiling.

The bay cradled The Hungry Gull, rocking her gently from side to side and Ffooks, his baritone, berceuse, just beneath the pitch of the engine, wooed her. Knott couldn’t make out the words or the tune just yet but, as the town faded, everything settled into a rhythm - the motor, the motion, the timber … Continue reading The Beguiling.

Apricity.

One Guy Fawkes' Night - which will add only some vague, meagre and purely incidental, albeit handy, visual and historical, romantic poetics to this otherwise quite ordinary detailing of a boy, a girl, a guest, a cat and heroin addiction - I discovered a tiny shadow at the front door. It mouthed its black miaow, … Continue reading Apricity.

First the milonga, then the tango.

All the guests had left the table, and indeed the bright room, to dance to a quintet that had struck up, with some vigour, a milonga out in the blue stone courtyard beneath the carved moon. Their chairs were left all at odds, scattered, vacated; pushed away from the table. Only the two of them … Continue reading First the milonga, then the tango.

Tomorrow in Chideock.

I cut the hair at the nape of her neck. “There’ll probably be a bouncy castle, too,” she says. “At the church?” “No,” she says, suddenly serious. “Afterward, at the wake. But, yes, the way things are going, it won’t be long before the vicar is on the castle herself. Up and down, up and … Continue reading Tomorrow in Chideock.