hescho peech

I took my pen from a pocket and, for no reason that I could comprehend, blacked out several letters in the headings and, with not a notion of Situationist or cut-up theory, but with an urgent and divine energy, The School Speech became he Scho peech, which, in turn, instinctively, could not become anything but … Continue reading hescho peech

Beneath Wrought Iron Ribs.

Beneath wrought iron ribs, Central Station resounds with arrival, with departure. The arch of her lip, her wrist, her notation; these words mark a nascent adventure. * Resounds with arrival, with departure announcement - Newcastle, Durham, Carlisle. These words mark a nascent adventure - candle, cathedral, centurion - beguile. * Announcement - Newcastle, Durham, Carlisle. … Continue reading Beneath Wrought Iron Ribs.

Between two wind-blown trees.

She sheltered her sheets between two wind-blown trees; a worn linden and a sapling juniper. She wrote out her year beneath their dappled leaves, considering the worth of the words on the paper. * A worn linden and a sapling juniper; both told their own long-sown tales and, considering the worth of the words on … Continue reading Between two wind-blown trees.

Pan & The Fluted Mimosa.

The sun dropped behind the bruised horizon and the sky became plateaued in fading orange and blue. A car, bearing the legend Weston Taxis, appeared on the quiet street, stopping opposite The Playhouse. The sky was held in the theatre's windows; a ghost crowd, too; foyered. A man and a woman climbed from the taxi … Continue reading Pan & The Fluted Mimosa.

The Archer’s Postcard.

i. The storm debris of yesterday draws a leitmotif of poems from the ordinary eddies on the stream. Beneath Newcastle Christmas lights, a confederacy of dreamers breeze the streets of King and Queen. * There is also synchronicity - this being the eve of Saint Nicholas ('... archers and repentant thieves') - I see one … Continue reading The Archer’s Postcard.

Notes From a Fragile Island. 25

December 1st 2005 Croydon Up the stepladder in the stockroom looking for a new bottle of stain remover for H, who is hungover. She has left a tidemark of medium brown tint on her client's forehead giving her a comedic Frankenstein's monster look. In the 80s everyone used ash from the ashtray and a cotton … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 25