Jam jar diorama.

I inherited a bag of little people the height of postage stamps. I kept them in a drawer for a half life. I figured one day I might need an army. January 2020 I started saving empty glass jars. I wasn't sure what for. But one day I decided to populate these jars. Isolating little … Continue reading Jam jar diorama.

Float On.

The old man passed over the rooftop of Brinton farm and Middlely. The night orange hiss glowed above the county towns to the north. The countryside. He threaded the stars orange spangleblue and white. There was a sound that followed him. Not the hissing electricity sparking from the shoulders of the pylons over the towns … Continue reading Float On.

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.

everything unpainted

  unfolded sheets and cornered pages, cobalt, rising from the blanket, found a world within the drawer -   everything unpainted.   the velour shadow of the curtain, quiet and thin and barely moving, bows before the wounded evening -   everything unpainted.      

hinge of laughter.

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.