The sky is vibes, Knott. Vibes. I heard a tiny humming in the pear orchard. It came from a tear in the quiet. A tan tide of vinegar flies were feasting on the scrump and they drew me, so I crouched. And, ankled in the pale night grass, I perceived another humming within. Just as … Continue reading A Tiny Humming.
For his next trick he needed a rabbit. I have a hat. As you see, quite empty. No sudden movements, please. She is nervous. Please dim the lights. He petted down the audience with a finger and what was to become (in later years, or definitely next time around) his catchphrase, Well, well, well. Who … Continue reading As You See, Quite Empty.
The dark public bar of the Eight Kings is daubed, this afternoon, with three broad strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows suffusing everything touched with honeyed shafts, crowning shadows. Reflected in the mirror behind the teak jump, among the faces gathered, the smoke, the bottles, the glasses, a caged and colourful fruit machine trills … Continue reading Into The Light.
The smeared sights, the bright lights – Felling, Hebburn, Pelaw - rushed the windscreen and nearly disappeared into the rear view. Dave passed the patchwork allotment in Jarrow. Sad flags, a surprising number – a Jack, a George, a rainbow, an A in a circle – hung there over wet sheds and plots from plum … Continue reading Looker.
Rabbit gazed with fairly no unease, like this, over the awkward shapes issuing, one by one by one by one from her own soft mouth and she sounded (to these hot ears) to be speaking from just behind the curtain; almost-present. She roller coasted her eyes around her nose and I liked it. So, she … Continue reading Behind the curtain
She sat at the kitchen table with a wine glass and all the what ifs, what weres and what could’ve beens floated in the glass and the bread began to rise. She thought about the summer of 1956. But actually it was difficult to picture much more than a blur of an album of photographs. … Continue reading The knowledge of now.
