Paul putt-putted her brow with two kisses and this seemed to me most fitting. Then, with some gargantuan and comedic effort, he clambered from the carpet, through the air to the bed and sat upon it, exhausted and pale in the candlelight. Paul peered into the compact, caught his breath and pouted. Have a go, he … Continue reading Sally, too.
30/07 [One summer's afternoon in the late 1970s, myself and Paul _?_ took his mother's dinghy out onto the bay. They lived in a small first floor flat just behind the harbour. The boat, a fibreglass tortoise shell shaped thing with a 50cc prop engine that could be clamped onto the stern, was kept in … Continue reading dream diaries…94
Paul, being her lover, tried, with his voice, to rouse her. She'd liked his voice. But not so much now it seemed. He spoke her name with a frog in his throat. We giggled. Sally did nothing. Then he was nose to the carpet, ear next to her's. He stroked her hair. He spoke her … Continue reading Twice (For Some Reason).
The pipistrelle circled the darkening square and, with an ease unseen, made a wheel of it; a welcome for the rising shadow tide. The bell, the harbour bell, sang once across Penn Beacon, reaching the garden some time after. The thin brass coloured peal echoed across the three walls of the back garden and faded faded faded … Continue reading Dim Witness.
25/07 I discover a door in my flat and I step through it. It leads to a large garage. There are tools hung on nails on the walls as dad would do. There is the smell of petrol, of cut-wood. A washing machine rumbles and sudded water is leaking from beneath it. I have returned … Continue reading dream diaries…93
i rested on the handle of my spade and smoked. i witnessed a congregation of privet, solemn hemmed and so cuffed with berries that even the herring birds, oddly black against the cloud, eschewed with cackles and coughs and with caution; such is tumbling rubbish on a breeze. i worked a thread of wet tobacco from my tongue to … Continue reading the bitter taste of almost breathing