The old man passed over the rooftops of night, the glowing shapes of light; county town and countryside. He threaded the stars of orange spangle and blue and white. There was a hum that came to him; not of electricity - because that was like kettledrums or rumbles of sheet metal thunder. This was a … Continue reading Float On.
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.
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.
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.
[applied to wax] bringing it all back home: subterranean homesick blues, lyrically, stands head & shoulders over almost any rocknroll number ever applied to wax, doesn’t it? it still brings a thrill to my heart & head & delivers a shiver across my shoulders, a glory to my nape, this very evening; perhaps now even … Continue reading close to the aperture [applied to wax]
[chair] bringing it all back home now plays. i am sat, as i was saying, at the kitchen window on a chair that was given to me – as a sort of thank you & farewell, an aide-memoire, i suppose - by my boss of many years (& one of the dearest & most inspirational, … Continue reading close to the aperture [chair]
