Sam, his teeth scratchy yellow, leaning dangerously away from the table, on a chair stood on two legs, passes the smoke jar and says, “diamonds, dear Sidney, may well be a girl’s best...” He holds up one hand, clenched. Then the other. He gathers eyes. He opens the first fist and blows into his palm. … Continue reading Greyhound Suggestion.
some memory of blue clay, of buttered gorse, jutting bayonet of flint, half-hidden, always just an inch away, this very, very evening, returned again, beleaguered, beached and batchelor: palm of secret, saddened gems. the following adornments remain abandoned on the tidal floor waiting for me to discover them - a glass of sand, a special … Continue reading hinge of laughter.
cut-up. Nat. Geo/ Boys' Own. watercolour wash. 20" X 30"
bad lieutenant had the greasy palm, sought soft fruit solace in an odd shaped bar. supped black sambuca - contracted boozers' arm. couldn't find way out of carrier bag. caught a tap on the chin from the bristol crow. grew to dislike soubriquet bestowed. reversed tartan, tripled vodka intake flow. couldn't find way out … Continue reading soubriquet.
