"Aye, coffin nails," she says regarding the spread of used cigarettes collected on the table before her. Her dreadlocks are corralled on top of her small head with a knotted tie-dye rag. She wears a lot of tie-dye. She laughs and the tips of hair prance on her shoulders like waxen ponies. She drums her … Continue reading Blanket For A Bairn.
June 30th: Whyteleafe. Old time London town: shadowed cobbled streets, high-rise (but Tudor). The buildings so high that the sky is a slot of scudding cloud. Heavy wooden doors, many panelled dusty windows. I am being chased by unseen forces; their boot falls echo off the walls. I push open a door and begin to … Continue reading dream diaries…67
the air stirs with rumour of the submarine halved in the harbour. brows furrow and palm-flattened charts appear. below the sheltered walls, an aria - an iron-throated chorister. archaic; rises, floats, fades, and disappears. (photo: nick reeves - south shields pier)
nickreeves 