Notes From a Fragile Island.

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.

Into The Light.

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.

Looker.

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.

a clutch of gerbera.

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.