Martin Kettle, formally of Stoneyclough but now resident of Penn Beacon, was stood on a table in the Eight Kings. He was taping the fourth corner of a large poster of Bob Dylan's face to the wall at the end of the bar. "No, no, Sam," he was saying. "It's ‘uff’, not ‘ow’. Stoneyclough." He … Continue reading The Bristol Arm.
Through the moonlit orchard, ghostly, passed a cohort quiet mostly, but for bridled horses snorting and a phaeton's lines, unspoken. In the loaming, apples, gallowed, tarnished silver, in the branches, shivered in that haunted gloam; the ungathered pome. * Shadows rushed the walls and ceiling of my chamber, causing flame and … Continue reading The Ungathered Pome.
Tucking one arm behind her, throwing out the other; up front and on bended knees, looking rather pleased, she says, very sweetly, I invented these. Dusting down the figurines, endless cups of tea, combing crumbs from the sofa, keeps the window clean - sunlight pouring in. He says, I invented these. Tweezing splinters from her … Continue reading The Inventors.
05/03/23 Joel S invites me on a tour of Ireland with his band. It will cost me £560, this will cover all travel and accommodation expenses. Food and drink is extra. I'll be gone for 5 weeks. I sign up for it immediately and soon find myself in Ireland backstage at a vast festival in … Continue reading dream diaries… 117
cleave1 | klēv | I, night; gentle rider. I, diaphanous warrior. I, literate, silent owl: night. Night! I, cotton knight, cleave the air, as I do as I do. cleave2 | klēv | As do arrows, as do spears. As do crows, to arrive over river, over mountain, over meadow, as do I; to woo, to weave daylight to shadow, to … Continue reading Cleave (1 & 2)
nickreeves 