Knott squatted in the muddy field, finding meagre shelter there beneath the rattling leaves of a storm-split twist of tree, a stone’s throw from the road and, glancing up and down its silent length, he felt pretty sorry for himself in his sodden clothes. He figured he would stay a while, see if the rain … Continue reading “…let him come hither.”
Yoko Ono, Patti Smith. Edie Sedgwick & The Slits. Virginia Woolf & Joan of Arc. Suzi Quatro, Boudicca. Madonna, Monroe, Dora Maar. Cleopatra, Rosa Parks. Kahlo, Earhart, Greer. Wollstonecraft, Nightingale & Plath. Garbo, Franklin, Holiday. Bardot, Frances Bellerby. Mary Anning, Marie Curie. Anne Frank, Hepworth, Liza, Judy.
I woke up and the room was dark. The room was dark and peaceful. I had been dreaming about someone from the past - a friend I hadn't seen since twenty-fourteen or sometime thereabouts. She was working in that dream in a school, she was working in that dream behind the reception desk in a … Continue reading empty pages.
One Guy Fawkes' Night - which will add only some vague, meagre and purely incidental, albeit handy, visual and historical, romantic poetics to this otherwise quite ordinary detailing of a boy, a girl, a guest, a cat and heroin addiction - I discovered a tiny shadow at the front door. It mouthed its black miaow, … Continue reading Apricity.
I cut the hair at the nape of her neck. “There’ll probably be a bouncy castle, too,” she says. “At the church?” “No,” she says, suddenly serious. “Afterward, at the wake. But, yes, the way things are going, it won’t be long before the vicar is on the castle herself. Up and down, up and … Continue reading Tomorrow in Chideock.
The old man passed over the rooftop of Brinton farm and Middlely. The night orange hiss glowed above the county towns to the north. The countryside. He threaded the stars orange spangleblue and white. There was a sound that followed him. Not the hissing electricity sparking from the shoulders of the pylons over the towns … Continue reading Butter Door.
