January 11th 2005 (Croydon) More flowers in the alley between George St. and Park St. Condolence for a kid killed by a bouncer at Flares: Goodbye m8. God Bless. Gutted. RIP. The bouncer was charged with murder on January 1st - what a way to start the year! The news doesn't surprise. I witnessed from … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island.
I packed a stack of old records in a Tesco's bag and took a 109 into Croydon. Some were mine, some were yours; once upon a time we called them ours. Tim looked sad as he opened up that Tesco's bag and spread out all that vinyl on the counter. He pointed out some scratches … Continue reading scratches in the sunlight.
The sky is vibes, Knott. Vibes. I heard a tiny humming in the pear orchard. It came from a tear in the quiet. A tan tide of vinegar flies were feasting on the scrump and they drew me, so I crouched. And, ankled in the pale night grass, I perceived another humming within. Just as … Continue reading A Tiny Humming.
The dark public bar of the Eight Kings is daubed, this afternoon, with three broad strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows suffusing everything touched with honeyed shafts, crowning shadows. Reflected in the mirror behind the teak jump, among the faces gathered, the smoke, the bottles, the glasses, a caged and colourful fruit machine trills … Continue reading Into The Light.
The smeared sights, the bright lights – Felling, Hebburn, Pelaw - rushed the windscreen and nearly disappeared into the rear view. Dave passed the patchwork allotment in Jarrow. Sad flags, a surprising number – a Jack, a George, a rainbow, an A in a circle – hung there over wet sheds and plots from plum … Continue reading Looker.
i watched a wet cormorant on a rock in a tide pool, her drape wings seeking heat from the bleak october. and at noon i thought of you at your grandmother's funeral, in the miniature jewels of the yew tree, beneath lichen fur. i imagined you in your annie hall get-up, cradling a clutch of … Continue reading a clutch of gerbera.
