He waited a while longer, but he saw no return. So, he went upstairs and laid in the bath and rolled another cigarette from an ashtray collection. The mirror steamed and rain drummed the thin glass in the skylight. When the water lost its heat, he climbed out, dried himself and dressed. In the old room … Continue reading The Shoes.
Five in the lapstrake.
It is a gorse-yellow and golden dawn over Penn Beacon. Fresh rush and suck of the shingle beneath the shallow lap waves as they reach, keel and recoil. We roll the boat from the low trailer into the sea. Ffooks and Farrow, his cousin, on one side, Sean and I on the other. When we … Continue reading Five in the lapstrake.
And When I Sleep, Luella. [iii]
Engine hum. Shudder. Someone got off, someone on. A starling of a woman, perched further down the bus, leapt from her seat with a gasp, like she'd awoke late in a grave. She gaped and gawped bleak window glass. Took what she could. Letitia counted off the clipped heads as the woman flapped down the … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [iii]
paperback rabbits.
he set a tarpaulin beneath two shadowed trees and spread his proceeds all around. he sat in the sand & handed out sheaves & read out the names of the things he had found. he promised attainment, elopement & seed, proffered score journals to prove he was sound. pulled paperback rabbits from warrens of … Continue reading paperback rabbits.
dream diaries…60
February 13th 2019 [Whyteleafe] The word - mirror - "Such a beautiful word." "One of the more beautiful." February 14th 2019 'A shadow hangs over this bed/An animal snagged in a trap' A snowy wood. Alan Mac, standing over a rabbit in a closed, steel trap, says, "This one, Nick, will never hunt again." … Continue reading dream diaries…60
And When I Sleep, Luella. [ii]
Later, beyond recognition of beginnings; of the certain unravelling on the long, unwinding road, nothing happened heading east. She read the back of the seat. She watched rain running down glass. The countryside slid. Wiped her nose on her sleeve. Began the slow-drip. The wake-up call. A place called Brockwell, a boy of tin got … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [ii]