Plate Moon.

A series of corridors. Breathing hard, neither speaking. Their footsteps falling from the walls, the ceiling. The moon in the windows, repeating. The fire door. The way out. Great gulps of cold night air, both doubled over, looking all about themselves, sweating heartbeats. They were stood on a short, wooden jetty on the south side … Continue reading Plate Moon.

All Kinds of Everything.

One lunchtime in early 2006 I called on Magic Sam and he said to me, "We had the manager of The Fall in earlier." Really? Sam worked in Beanos (the sign above the door proclaimed - 'The largest second-hand record shop anywhere') and for many years this was the place to hang out. If you … Continue reading All Kinds of Everything.

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.

Butter Door.

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 Butter Door.