A series of corridors. Breathing hard, neither speaking. Their footsteps falling from the walls, the ceiling. The moon in the windows, repeating. The fire door. The way out. Great gulps of cold night air, both doubled over, looking all about themselves, sweating heartbeats. They were stood on a short, wooden jetty on the south side … Continue reading Plate Moon.
As the game ended it started to rain so we ran, faces wet with laughter, struggling to raise the umbrella we'd found in the overhead on the train. umbrella (cut-up, watercolour 20/07/21)
Judith Butters was on her way to scatter her father's ashes over Bristol. It was her belief that he would be happy with this decision. Knott. "I imagine it's pretty quiet up there." "I've never been." "Me neither. But this is what I imagine." The road to Benchcombe was browed first with boxy hedges, then … Continue reading A Million Motes.
At Penn Beacon market last weekend, I bought a dozen National Geographic magazines (dated some four decades ago, but for one with a beautiful African savanna on the cover, that was from April 1982; the paper of which was considerably thinner) from a man who, as well as cheap collections of periodicals – such as … Continue reading The Dream Job.
June 18 2018 (Berlin) Three schoolgirls, skirted & shirted, each with a small rucksack across their white cottoned back, play a neat dance game in the carriage on the 7 u-bahn. They spin & clap the upturned soles of their smart shoes together, spin & slap palms. A pleated chorus of words & laughter accompanies … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 22
My piece 'Photocopy of a Snapshot in the Mirror Frame' (and two other prose/poetry pieces) are featured in this edition of the excellent Free Verse Revolution magazine. This piece, as with all my work to some or no small extent, is based on both a true story and a real photocopy of a snapshot in … Continue reading ‘Photocopy of a Snapshot in the Mirror Frame’ [published at Free Verse Revolution]
