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.

‘Brocken! – serious offers only!’

Saturday sunshine - honey on a slice of white - spreads the length of South Street. Its smear blesses nearly every pale thing. The windows in the terraces cannot help but grin. Front doors yawn on their hinges. The traffic rolls up and down in slow motion, the engine sweat beneath the bonnet; a cyclist … Continue reading ‘Brocken! – serious offers only!’

Conjuring Sam.

Bringing both burial and breath, beginning and end, the bells, born of nothing but silence and time stretched thin, begin their jubilee. Protractors and papers and pens are lidded in desks. The board chalk is vanished as chairs scratch varnished parquet. The children fall upon doors, open them. The windows crowd with their faces. At … Continue reading Conjuring Sam.

Dogweed Insecurity.

One afternoon, a kettle faced woman and a big red man came in The Eight Kings. Big red went to the bar and kettle face came to the window and sat down on one of the stools facing the sea. He brought their drinks. She had a small white and he had a Bloody Mary … Continue reading Dogweed Insecurity.

No wig, no gig.

"You’re telling me, when you went to church as a kid, you never got an orange with a candle stuck in it?" "An orange?" "Christmas orange." "At Christmas?" "Uh huh. With a candle." "Don't think I ever went to church as a kid." "Hmm. Well, you got this orange, okay, with a candle stuck in … Continue reading No wig, no gig.

Your colour schemes delight.

Someone has complained of the beach weed stench - this beach stinks is etched into a bench. Next to this someone has penned for consideration You a bitch and yo mum is a fish • The queue for chicken bones, the hound shite footprints, the coven of the blameless, detail the carpet, the sand and … Continue reading Your colour schemes delight.